


A Matter of Trust

by Treon



Series: Free as a Bird 'verse [5]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Case Fic, Gen, Trust Issues, White Collar Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2343803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter had thought that jail would turn the young man around. But following his release, Neal returns to his old ways, always keeping one step ahead of the Feds. Now, a year later, Neal is planning a daring heist under the FBI's nose, and this time Peter intends to catch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Year

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 5th White Collar Big Bang challenge. Thanks to the mods for their patience, and for making this story possible. Thanks to Mums The Word, china_shop and citrinesunset for beta'ing.
> 
> Artwork by the talented Leesa Peerie

 [Artwork by Leesa Peerie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2343764) [  
](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2343764)

 

"Neal!" Mozzie shouted as he entered Neal's apartment. Neal had bought it shortly after he'd been released from prison, and he had to fence quite a few of his treasures in order to fund it. A spacious penthouse overlooking Central Park, it gave Neal exactly what he wanted - an escape from the memory of four years of prison.  
  
Mozzie went through the kitchen, stopping to look through the fridge, then passed through the living room and grabbed an apple off the fruit bowl. "Neal!"  
  
He finally found Neal outside, in the patio. He was sitting on a lounge chair, sketching. He was wearing khaki shorts and a blue top, a straw hat shading his eyes.  
  
Mozzie approached his artist friend and took a thoughtful bite from his apple. Despite having the most beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline in front of him, Neal was working on a sketch of Kate.  
  
Mozzie's chewing was distracting. Neal tried to ignore it, but after a full minute of Mozzie chewing in his ear, he finally gave up. "You disapprove."  
  
"I didn't say anything."  
  
Neal shot him a sardonic look. "You didn't have to." Mozzie had told him often enough that he should move on.  
  
Neal had last seen Kate the day he'd been arrested. Throughout his years in prison, he'd held out hope that once he got out, she'd make contact again. At first he'd sent her letters, but he stopped when they started returning, marked 'unknown recipient'. He'd continued writing, though, and he still treasured his pile of unsent letters. He could not accept that this was how it was going end.  
  
Mozzie just shrugged. "You want to waste your life pining for a girl, that's your choice."  
  
Neal sighed and put down his pencil. He didn't want to get into  _that_  discussion again. Besides, he could guess what Mozzie wanted. His friend was carrying a large rolled up piece of paper, which could only mean one thing: a new job. "I'm not interested in the Czech job."  
  
"Ah!" Mozzie pointed the paper roll at Neal. "But I'm not here about the Czech job. I've got something you're going to love." And with that he turned on his heels and walked back inside.  
  
For a short moment Neal considered getting back to his sketching. But he was curious. So he tossed his sketch book aside, removed his hat, and got up to follow Moz.  
  
Mozzie refused to discuss serious issues on the roof. He was sure Big Brother was following their every move outside, and though Neal thought Mozzie was giving the government too much credit, even he had to admit that he didn't want his plans showing up on the next Google Earth update.  
  
Their room of choice for planning their heists was Neal's studio. Neal kept it locked when it wasn't in use.  
  
Once inside, Mozzie threw out the remains of his apple, missing the garbage bin by a mile, then gestured Neal over to the nearby table.  
  
"This one is going to be a challenge." He unrolled the paper - floor plans - in front of Neal.  
  
Neal glanced at it. It looked like an apartment building or a hotel. "What's the score?"  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
Neal looked up from the schematics in silent question.  
  
Mozzie had cast his line, now he was reeling it in. "But I do know the mark's a collector of ancient coins."  
  
"Okay. What kind of safe are we talking about?"  
  
Mozzie shrugged.  
  
"A challenge," Neal repeated.  
  
"That's right."  
  
A slow smile started playing on Neal's face. "Okay. So what do we have?"  
  
Mozzie produced a picture. It was a surveillance photo of a young man, dressed in an upscale suit. He had a short, black beard. "This is Abdul Aziz bin Sultan, Saudi prince, currently living in New York."  
  
Neal took the picture and looked it over carefully. "He collects ancient coins?"  
  
"He's very passionate about them. He's rumored to have 20 million dollars' worth in his private collection." Mozzie produced several more pictures. "These are the ones he bought at public auction, in the past two months."  
  
Neal glanced through them. The three coins in question came from different parts of the globe. "So it's all here in New York."  
  
"Supposedly. Now," Mozzie hurried to add before Neal could interrupt him further, "as it happens, he's renovating his apartment. You'd be surprised how talkative those renovation people can be. If you look at the plan here, you'll see that he made some very interesting changes." Mozzie tapped the plan in question. The prince had created an internal room within his apartment. "He reinforced the walls and floor here."  
  
There was only one reason for such renovations. "He installed a safe." A seriously big safe.  
  
"And put in security alarms." Mozzie pointed out the windows.  
  
"Okay, I'm definitely interested. He's in Manhattan?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
When Mozzie wasn't more forthcoming, Neal asked, "Where?"  
  
Mozzie's eyes shifted downward, then back up at Neal.  
  
Neal frowned. It took a moment for him to realize what Mozzie was trying to tell him. "He's in this building?!"  
  
"Two floors down, actually. Neal, you really should get to know your neighbors more. Now, I admit it poses some problems-"  
  
"You think?!" 'Problems' was an understatement. "I'll be the prime suspect, even if I wasn't planning this hit. Which I am."  
  
"Oh, you'll need an air-tight alibi, of course. But I wouldn't say that's our biggest problem."  
  
Neal considered the plans on the table in front of him. "What's our biggest problem?"  
  
Over the past week Mozzie had set up a surveillance point in the next building over. From there he had a pretty good view right into his mark's apartment. The guy never closed his drapes, practically  _inviting_  the neighbors to take a look. Why anybody in New York would assume that their neighbors weren't keeping watch on them with a high-powered telescope was really beyond Mozzie's understanding.  
  
Mozzie had spent a few days glued to his binoculars and made note of all the comings and goings around the mark.  
  
"There are guards in the apartment 24/7."  
  
Neal considered the problem. A moment later he snapped his fingers, a smile on his face. "Let's throw a party!"  
  
Mozzie raised an eyebrow. "Continue."  
  
"I'll invite all the neighbors, of course," Neal mused.  
  
"We'll still have to deal with the guards, though. I'm telling you, there's always somebody there."  
  
Neal grinned. "Don't worry about it. I'll give you five-ten minutes of work time easy. Only problem is we'll need somebody else for the grab."  
  
"As it happens," Mozzie said oh-so-nonchalantly, "Alex is back in town."  
  
Somehow, Neal had the feeling Mozzie had planned it all in advance. He sighed. "Okay. Let's see that floor plan again."  
  
  
*****  
  
Peter was in his office, reviewing reports, when his wife called. He answered the phone with a quick "Hey."  
  
Elizabeth was excited. "Hey, Honey. You're not going to believe who just stopped by my office."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
Elizabeth paused just enough for the dramatic effect. "Neal Caffrey."  
  
Elizabeth now had Peter's undivided attention. "Neal?! What did he want?" All sorts of scenarios went through Peter's head, but none matched what El was about to say.  
  
"He wants me to cater a party for him."  
  
"A party? Neal Caffrey." Peter found the idea ludicrous. "He told you who he was?"  
  
"Of course. He said he knows you're my husband, but that he 'bears no ill will towards you'," Elizabeth quoted. "He was actually very charming about it."  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
"He said he was at the Italian consulate event I organized a few months ago. You remember?"  
  
"How could I forget?" Peter distinctly remembered that event. El had landed a big fish doing an event for the consulate and she had managed to convince Peter to stop by on his way from work, just to see the place. He had meant to step in for just a few minutes, but then he'd spotted Neal. It had ruined his entire evening.  
  
El was still talking. "-very impressed."  
  
"Uh-uh." He couldn't prove it, but he was sure Neal had been casing the consulate. And now Neal had turned to El to cater a party. The man was up to something, that was obvious. Though now that Peter was over his first shock, he could think of several ways he could use this to his advantage.  
  
"We're going to meet tomorrow, at his place."  
  
"His place?" Peter had never managed to get a warrant for Neal's place and had never gotten past the front door. And now Neal was  _inviting_  his wife in.  
  
"Yeah, to check out the venue. He said he had a penthouse with a large patio. I'll take Yvonne with me." Elizabeth stopped her rush of words, the realization dawning that, charming as Neal Caffrey was, she had just set to meet with an ex-con, one that her husband had put away. "Or do you think it's too dangerous? Maybe I should tell him I can't do it."  
  
"No, no. It's okay. Neal's not dangerous," Peter hurried to calm El down. "But, actually, El, would you mind doing me a favor?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Don't feel that you have to-"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Peter finally spat it out. "Would you mind wearing a wire while you're there?"  
  
He would have loved to use the opportunity to drop a bug in the place. The number of cases he could close... But no warrant, no bug. Having somebody inside with recording equipment was second best.  
  
El didn't need to think too much about it. "Sure."  
  
Peter was still rolling with selling his idea. "This might be our chance to get an inside look. It's okay if you prefer not to, I don't want to push you into a-"  
  
"An FBI sting operation?"  
  
Peter smiled. "Yes."  
  
"I'd love to help you out, Hon."  
  
He had the greatest wife. "Great. I'll get the ball rolling, and we'll talk more tonight."  
  
The minute he hung up on El, Peter looked up Neal's file and dialed the number listed.  
  
The phone was answered on the second ring. "Yes?"  
  
"Neal Caffrey?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"This is Agent Peter Burke." Peter introduced himself.  
  
"Peter! What a surprise!"  
  
"I'm sure. You visited my wife today."  
  
Neal's laugh tinkled down the line. "You make it sound like a crime."  
  
"Neal-"  
  
"I'm planning a party, she's a caterer. It's not against the law, is it?"  
  
"Don't tell me that of all the caterers in New York, you just happened to pick my wife out of a phone book."  
  
"Of course not, Peter. I wanted to organize a soiree, so I called the best caterer in town."  
  
"Right." Peter scoffed. He couldn't believe this was the real reason behind it.  
  
"Are you putting down Burke Premier Events?"  
  
"Cut it out, Neal." Peter wasn't about to let Neal change the subject. "I don't know what you're planning, but whatever it is, I'm going to be watching you every step of the way."  
  
"Why do you think I'm planning anything?" Neal sounded insulted.  
  
Peter rolled his eyes. "Every step of the way." He hung up.  
  
Neal considered the phone, a small smile playing on his lips. Then turned to Mozzie. They were sitting in the park, just a block down from Elizabeth Burke's office, enjoying the sunshine.  
  
"Well?" Mozzie asked.  
  
It was like taking candy from a baby. "We've got our alibi."  
  
  
*****

Standing by the door to Neal Caffrey's apartment, El adjusted her suit jacket. The FBI had put a miniature camera in her lapel pin so she could capture every image around her, every word uttered. Peter had given El instructions to try and draw Neal out.  
  
The FBI van was parked discreetly down the street, Peter and Diana in attendance.  
  
El knew Neal Caffrey was a 'person of interest' for the FBI. She'd been through it all with Peter, from that first fake bond he'd discovered to giving testimony at the trial. And then opening up the case again after Neal was released. Knowing was one thing. Internalizing it was another. The man who had stepped into her office, the same man who now opened the door for her, looked nothing like a criminal.  
  
"Hi!" Neal flashed a smile at the two women. "Thank you for coming."  
  
"Mr. Caffrey-"  
  
"Please, Elizabeth," Neal smoothly interrupted, "call me Neal. Only my lawyers ever call me Mr. Caffrey."  
  
"Neal. Right." El smiled at him. She turned to introduce the woman by her side. "This is Yvonne, my assistant."  
  
"Hi, Yvonne." Neal shook hands.  
  
"So, let's start. You said you want to hold the party here?"  
  
"That's right." Neal moved aside to let them both enter, then led them through the place. El found she liked the color scheme. Light and airy. Sunlight filtered in through huge windows, all overlooking Central Park. El caught a glimpse of an expansive living room as she hurried after Neal.  
  
Art tastefully decorated the walls. El wasn't an expert in sculpture, but she noticed a few pieces that must have cost a few thousand each. Assuming they weren't forgeries.  
  
She stopped by one of a couple of bear cubs playing. "This is beautiful," she noted.  
  
Neal turned around. "Huntington." He raised his hands in mock innocence. "I assure you it was obtained legally. If you'd like to see the bill of sale..."  
  
A flush of red crept up her cheeks. "No, no, of course not. I wouldn't have assumed otherwise."  
  
Neal smiled politely, but he didn't believe her. She was Agent Peter Burke's wife after all. He was sure anything he had on display would be cataloged in an FBI file by the end of the day. He was practically counting on it.  
  
Neal led the two women towards his patio. "I thought we could have it here."  
  
"Wow!" El stepped out into the patio. "This is... wow."  
  
"It's quite the view, isn't it?" He turned around proudly. "I was thinking we could have fireworks, out in the park."  
  
"Uh... sure. We'll just need to set up the proper permits." Elizabeth turned towards Yvonne, gesturing for her to write this down. "It shouldn't be a problem."  
  
"Good."  
  
"What about a theme? If this is a birthday party..." she trailed off with a questioning glance in Neal's direction.  
  
Neal looked away from the view. "I'm celebrating my one year anniversary as a free man."  
  
In the van, Diana shot Peter a glance. They had an office pool as to how Caffrey was going to explain his sudden wish to throw a party. She had put $5 on 'beginning of summer' party but nobody had gotten it right. It just hadn't occurred to anybody that Caffrey would look back and be counting the days since he'd been released from prison.  
  
It had caught El by surprise as well. She smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I'm sorry."  
  
"Nothing to be sorry for," Neal said easily. "I've made mistakes in my past, I know that. I've paid the price, and now I'm moving on."  
  
"That's, um... that's a very good attitude." Though based on what Peter told her, the only place Neal was moving was towards bigger and smarter crimes.  
  
Neal smiled at her. "Come, I'll show you the kitchen."  
  
Diana shook her head at Neal's words. "You buy that?"  
  
Peter smiled grimly. "Not a word."  


*****

A few days later, Alex, Mozzie and Neal gathered at Neal's place. The table in his studio was covered with a blown-up map of Neal's street and the surrounding area.  
  
Neal took lead on explaining the job to Alex. "Mozzie will be here, keeping watch." He pointed out the building next door, then moved to his own building. "You'll enter from the back. The guards will be distracted by the fireworks, so they shouldn't be a problem."  
  
Alex looked up from the map. "And if they're not?"  
  
Mozzie and Neal exchanged a quick look. "You beat a hasty retreat."  
  
Alex smiled. "Just like Copenhagen, huh?"  
  
"Just like Copenhagen," Neal agreed.  
  
Alex's smile disappeared. "Need I remind you that you let me get caught in Copenhagen?"  
  
"Alex-"  
  
Mozzie hurried to intercede. "Let bygones be bygones, right? Let's focus on the here and now."  
  
He looked at Neal, who shook his head, then Alex. She finally nodded. "Just get on with it."  
  
Right. Mozzie unrolled the floor-plan of the building, while Neal pulled out the previous map, hanging it on a nearby board.  
  
The next half-hour was spent in technical discussions, possible safe models and the required tools.  
  
"You won't have time to break the safe. You'll need to blow it up. If you time it right, nobody will hear a thing."  
  
"You have a schedule for your fireworks?"  
  
Neal nodded. "I'm meeting with the tech guys tomorrow. I'll give you a breakdown by the minute."  
  
Mozzie continued, "You leave, rappel down and then we'll meet later and divide the loot."  
  
Alex looked up from the building plans. "Fine. I'll do it."  
  
Mozzie looked as relieved as he felt. "Good."  
  
But Alex wasn't finished. "I get two thirds, you split the rest."  
  
Mozzie opened his mouth, but before he could tell Alex he'd take the deal, Neal spoke up. "We're going to split it evenly."  
  
Alex laughed. "You think I'm going to do all the work, risk everything, and leave with a third?"  
  
Neal smiled his most engaging smile. "Come on, Alex."  
  
She wasn't impressed. "Don't 'come on' me, Neal. Two thirds or I'm out."  
  
"We're a team," Neal tried again. "Where's the old team spirit, uh?"  
  
"Really? A team?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
Alex's brown eyes fixed on Neal's. "How do I know you're not setting me up?"  
  
That took Neal aback. "Why would I set you up?"  
  
"Oh, come on! Don't pretend you're not cozy with the Feds."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Should I remind you of the consulate debacle? When your FBI buddy just 'happened' to show up?"  
  
Alex had learned the music box was in New York, in the Italian consulate. It had been Neal's idea to try and get it. Second time's the charm, right? But they hadn't figured on the caterer being the wife of an FBI agent, and on that same agent showing up. Alex had blamed him for screwing up that job and for once again failing to get the music box. As if he had  _wanted_  Peter to spot him. Neal had thought she had gotten over it, but apparently he'd been wrong. "He's not my buddy, and that wasn't my fault."  
  
"Right. Nothing ever is."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
Alex rolled her eyes. "Do I need to spell it out for you?"  
  
Neal crossed his arms against his chest. "I'm listening."  
  
"Did I mention the Italian consulate?"  
  
"Okay, guys?" Mozzie held up a hand.  
  
Neither paid attention.  
  
"Too many times. If that's your only-"  
  
"Madrid," Alex threw out.  
  
"What about Madrid?" At Alex's look, Neal spluttered, "Really? How was I supposed to know that truck was-"  
  
"That wasn't your fault, either, was it?" Alex threw up her hands in disgust.  
  
Mozzie put his index fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. The room quieted down instantly.  
  
Mozzie let the silence stand for a few beats. "How about fifty-fifty? Half goes to Alex, we'll split the rest."  
  
Neal glared at Alex. "Moz-"  
  
Moz shushed him. "Well?"  
  
Alex considered the offer. "Fine. Fifty-fifty."  
  
"There we go!" Mozzie crowed. "Now can we shake on it?"  
  
Neal grit his teeth, but at Mozzie's silent urging, offered his hand.  
  
Alex put her hand out to shake. "After the first million."  
  
Neal pulled his hand back, a warning note in his voice. "Alex..."  
  
"Take it or leave it."  
  
Moz hurried to shake Alex's hand. "We're taking it. Of course we're taking it. Right, Neal?"  
  
"Wrong. I'm not going-"  
  
"Excuse me." Mozzie shot Alex an apologetic look as he dragged Neal away. "Twenty million, Neal. Twenty million. Even if we only get half, that's still five million each."  
  
"That's assuming we believe the rumors. And that we're going to get the entire stash."  
  
"Trust me, Neal. Okay? This is going to be big."  
  
"We're trusting Alex an awful lot here. She could take the coins and run."  
  
"Alex won't run. Trust me, okay?"  
  
Neal bit his lip, but at Mozzie pleading eyes he finally broke down. "Fine."  
  
Going back to Alex, Mozzie smiled politely.  
  
"We're taking it."  
  
Alex glanced at Neal, and as the silence lengthened, Mozzie did as well.  
  
Neal smiled as if nothing happened. "We'll take it."  
  
"Love doing business with you, Neal. Moz." Alex took her leave.  
  
Moz waved goodbye. He waited till the door shut close behind her before he turned to Neal. "What was that?"  
  
Neal had returned to the floor plans, penciling in notes on the side. "What was what?"  
  
"You and Alex."  
  
Neal didn't look up. "Ask her."  
  
Mozzie cleared his throat. As if he was going to risk it. "You realize we'll have to clear this place out. The Feds will tear it apart."  
  
That did cause Neal to raise his head. He looked round his studio. It was filled with evidence which could send him to jail for a long, long time. Though, to be honest, it was risky keeping it all here to begin with.  
  
"It will be worth it for the payout," Mozzie interrupted his friend's reverie.  
  
"Yeah," Neal answered, without much enthusiasm. But he was already looking forward to this next heist.

  
*****

The night of the big party, Peter and Diana were sitting in a parked car right across from Caffrey's building. Their surveillance van, staffed with two more agents, was parked around the corner so as not to draw attention.  
  
It was late evening. A few people were out jogging, some were hurrying home from work. Down the street a couple had sat down, completely oblivious of everybody around them.  
  
Diana had a camera in her hands and every few minutes she snapped a few more shots. It wasn't every day that a thief like Caffrey threw a party. Peter wanted everybody going in and out of the building identified and cataloged.  
  
Peter unwrapped his sandwich and took a hearty bite. It was going to be a long night.  
  
"He's sure got a lot of guests," Diana pointed out during a lull in arrivals.  
  
"A hundred and fifty." El had kindly provided him with the official guest list. Not that Peter believed half the names on it were real.  
  
Diana sighed. "I'd love to have a patio that can sit a hundred and fifty."  
  
Peter smiled under his sandwich. "Think of the upkeep."  
  
Diana considered that. If she had a patio like that, she could probably afford the upkeep as well. "Maybe he's just jerking our chain."  
  
Peter shook his head. "Oh, he's planning something."  
  
Diana noticed a few more guests approaching and took a couple more shots. "So far he's partying up there with his finger food and caviar while we're wasting our time sitting out here."  
  
"I don't go for caviar anyway."  
  
They both exchanged a quick smile. Neither of them was the fancy type.  
  
Diana chuckled. "Remember the time he sent us champagne?"  
  
"How could I forget? It was just when-"  
  
Peter stopped when Diana hissed out, "He's coming!"  
  
Indeed, a quick look out the driver's window confirmed that Neal Caffrey, their surveillance target, was strolling towards them. He was looking good, wearing a custom-made suit, a custom-made smile pasted from ear to ear.  
  
"Agent Burke!" Neal called out the minute Peter made eye-contact. With a few easy steps he closed the distance between them, then stopped to lean down and take a look inside the car. "And Agent Berrigan! What a coincidence, meeting you two here."  
  
Peter rolled his eyes. "Oh, cut it out, Neal."  
  
"What are you two doing outside? Come up and enjoy the party."  
  
"No can do, Neal."  
  
"Hmm... well, it's a shame you have to miss out on all the fun. Or is that the unwritten law of the FBI? Thou shalt not enjoy thyself?"  
  
"We'll survive." Peter glared at Neal. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I could ask the same question," Neal retorted.  
  
The two men stared each other down as the seconds ticked by. Finally Neal stepped back, the easy smile returning to his face. "Okay. I get it. Doesn't mean you have to suffer down here, though."  
  
Neal went back up to the party, but soon Peter and Diana were interrupted once again. This time by one of the waiters carrying a care package. Just like the good old days. Peter vetoed opening the champagne - they were on duty, after all. But, after some protestations from Diana, he agreed to split the appetizers plate, which consisted of small open-faced meat sandwiches. As it turned out, they were far better than his sandwich.  
  
Time passed by rather quietly. With the party in full swing, there wasn't much the surveillance team could do anyway. Peter considered whether he should move to the van. The feed from El's jacket camera was being sent there.  
  
And then the fireworks started up. Colorful threads lighting up the sky.  
  
Their car was parked just right. They had ringside seats.  
  
Diana leaned forward in her seat to get a better view. "Well, at least we're not missing this part of the show."  
  
Peter glanced out his window. He had to admit, it was impressive.  
  
After fifteen seconds of non-stop extravagance, Diana said, "Just think about the money he's blowing on this. Thousands of dollars going up in smoke, just to show off."  
  
"Caffrey doesn't show off."  
  
Diana rolled her eyes. The man had sent down an expensive bottle of champagne, knowing they were sitting down here surveilling him.  
  
"I mean," Peter explained, "he doesn't show off with his money." Neal loved being the center of attention and the man loved showing off his skills, Peter had no doubt about that. There was also no doubt that he enjoyed the good life, and he enjoyed sharing it, but it was never about showing off.  
  
With Neal, every move was calculated. "He wouldn't be putting on such a show unless..." Peter trailed off. He glanced back at Neal's exclusive apartment building. People in the street were looking up, pointing and shouting as the fireworks exploded above them. Even the enamored couple had turned around to watch the show.  
  
Neal wasn't putting on a show for no reason. He had taken El as his caterer, also for a reason. And now the FBI was here, and Neal didn't seem to care. Peter's eyes darted between the fireworks, the building, the people.  
  
Diana noticed the sudden death of conversation. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Caffrey's plan." Whatever it was, he was using the fireworks as cover. Peter threw the appetizer plate towards the dashboard. "Get NYPD down here, I want them to surround the building."  
  
"What?" Diana grabbed for her phone.  
  
Peter was already out of the car. "It's going down now," he called out before he hurried off. If he was right, Caffrey was pulling the oldest trick in the book. He had everybody looking in the wrong direction.

  
  
*****

  
Mozzie was standing at his post, binoculars in hand. He had a clear view down Neal's street and everything was going according to plan. Alex had made quick work of the mark's new security system and had blown the safe as planned. As Neal had projected, the guards were glued to the windows. A few more minutes, and they'd be 20 million dollars richer.  
  
He'd just finished a sweep of the street, when he realized the Suit was out of his Suit-car and on the move, heading towards the exact spot where Alex was supposed to rappel down.  
  
"We've got a problem," he announced into his little walkie-talkie.  
  
Alex was clearing out the safe as fast as she could. She wished Mozzie would be a little less declarative and a lot looser with the facts. "What kind of problem?" she hissed. Mozzie had insisted they use his vintage walkie-walkies. For some unexplainable reason she had gone along with that. Now she was stuck with a noisy communication device in the middle of a delicate heist.  
  
The machine in her hand crackled. "Suits are heading your way."  
  
She was going to kill Neal. "Why am I not surprised?" She hurried over to the window and scanned the area. She couldn't see the agents yet. Which meant she might still have time to get down.  
  
Mozzie thought fast. If Alex rappelled down, the Suit might still catch sight of the equipment set up by Neal's window. "Go back up to Neal's. I'll handle it."  
  
"What-?"  
  
"No time, Alex!"  
  
Alex mumbled a few choice words under her breath, but hurried to comply. She had her doubts about Neal, but she trusted Mozzie implicitly for some reason.  
  
When Peter jogged around the corner, nothing looked out of place. The FBI agent looked up at the building towering above him. The windows up on the top floor, Neal's apartment, were open. He could see a curtain fluttering out.  
  
He took out his phone. "Diana. I need those cops. Now."  
  
"NYPD are on their way. ETA five minutes."  
  
Peter squinted up at the building. His gut told him he was on the right course. It was only a question of whether he'd picked up on it fast enough.  
  
*****

  
Climbing over the window ledge into Neal's apartment, Alex dropped down on the floor. She didn't want the Feds outside to catch sight of her. She removed her gloves and then with expert speed took apart the rappelling equipment and dropped it all into her bag.  
  
Only then did she risk a quick look out the window. There was one Fed down below, talking on his phone. And just as Alex looked out, a police cruiser drove up. The Fed signaled it to stop, then leaned down to talk to the driver. Great.  
  
She took out her walkie talkie. "Mozzie?"  
  
No response.  
  
"Mozzie! Can you hear me?"  
  
Excellent. So much for trusting the little guy.  
  
Alex turned back to her bag. After a bit of rummaging, she took out a black dress.  
  
A minute later, she slipped into the party and mingled in with the other guests standing on the patio, oohing and aahing at the colorful explosions above them.  
  
Neal was speaking to Elizabeth about bringing out more drinks when he caught sight of Alex making her way towards him. According to the plan, she should have been on her way to the safe house about now. "Excuse me, Elizabeth."  
  
El took a look at the new arrival and smiled politely back at Neal. "Of course."  
  
Alex intercepted Alex, and the two stepped away from the patio. Neal smiled around as if he was having a pleasant conversation. "What happened?"  
  
Alex didn't bother putting on an act. "Somebody invited the Feds to the party," she spat out. "That's what happened."  
  
"Okay, calm down."  
  
"Calm down?! Calm down?!" Her voice dropped just a notch. "I'm carrying several million in gold coins, Neal. It's not going to take the Feds long to lock this place down, and then it's going to be  _my_  ass on the line."  
  
"Okay," Neal said, trying to placate her. "I'll take care of it."  
  
"You need to get me out of here."  
  
"I will." He had no idea how, but he was sure he'll come up with something. Given enough time.  
  
Time, however, could be a very precious commodity. Neal was still trying to figure something out when Peter Burke showed up at the door, flashing his badge to get past the bouncer at the entrance. He was accompanied by several police officers.  
  
Neal gave Alex a warning look and hurried to head the agent off.  
  
"Peter! About time! I knew you wouldn't be able to sit in that car all night."  
  
Peter ignored him and raised his badge. "Everybody listen up! Party's over!"  
  
A wave of whispers and surprised questions washed over the assembled crowd. The fireworks show outside continued on.  
  
"Wait." Neal looked positively shocked. "What?"  
  
Peter ignored him. "Is there an Abdul Aziz bin Sultan here?"  
  
A young man stepped forward. "I'm Abdul Aziz," he said in slightly accented English.  
  
"We suspect there's been a break-in in your apartment. I'd like you to accompany this police officer downstairs for him to get a statement."  
  
Following his hunch, Peter had sent the cops to check out the apartments on the far side of the building, starting from the floor under Neal's. It didn't take them long to discover which apartment had been hit.  
  
The men in there - apparently security guards - hadn't even been aware they'd been robbed until the police showed up. They said the apartment's owner was up on the roof, at a party. Peter had left them under police supervision until he could figure out what was going on.  
  
Neal blinked, uncomprehendingly. "What does this have to do with my party?"  
  
Peter was in no mood for games. "Don't try to play stupid, Neal. I know you're involved. I'm going to turn this place upside down until I find it."  
  
"Find what? There's nothing here."  
  
Peter just ignored him. "I need everybody to line up." He turned to the police officers with him. "I want you to take names, and search everybody in the room." He gestured towards Neal with his thumb. "Start with him."  
  
"Okay, this is police harassment. I'm a law-abiding citizen."  
  
Peter snorted.  
  
Neal eyed the policeman advancing at him. "You have a warrant?"  
  
"I don't need a warrant. I have exigent circumstance."  
  
Neal's eyes flashed in anger, but he kept his voice low. "This is what I get for helping you out, Peter? You showing up here just to embarrass me?"  
  
Neal's vehemence caught Peter unawares. Neal had helped him in the past, unwillingly, but still, and Peter had told him he owed him for that. But that didn't include giving Neal a free pass on committing whatever crimes he pleased.  
  
He was saved from answering by El.  
  
"Peter?" El approached her husband, stopping a few steps away.  
  
Peter caught the look on El's face. "Don't move," he told Neal.  
  
Once Peter joined her, El nodded towards one of the guests. "Check out that woman over there."  
  
Peter turned around to look. A young woman with long brown hair. There was nothing particularly suspicious about her, but he trusted El had good reason to point her out.  
  
He made his way over to the woman in question. She was checking her watch, looking slightly bored. She looked up as he approached, giving him a polite smile and a generally blank stare.  
  
"Excuse me, ma'am. Agent Peter Burke." Peter showed his badge. "FBI. Can I see your bag please?" He gestured towards the large handbag she had slung over her shoulder.  
  
Alex smiled with confusion. "My bag?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"I- what for?"  
  
"This is part of ongoing investigation, ma'am."  
  
"But-"  
  
Just then the building shook. People started shouting. Peter looked back towards the patio, where a fireball appeared in the night sky. Something had gone wrong with the fireworks. Somebody shouted out "FIRE!".  
  
He turned back to the woman, but she wasn't there. Damn. Peter looked around, trying to find her in the sudden crush of people rushing out of the patio. The policemen with him were quickly overwhelmed by the crowd.  
  
Then Peter caught sight of Neal. The conman was smiling one of his carefree smiles. When he caught sight of Peter, he gave a little 'what can you do?' shrug.  
  
Muttering under his breath, Peter reached for his phone. "Diana! There's a suspect headed your way. Female, Caucasian, brown hair. If you see her, stop her. In fact, make sure nobody gets through."  
  
"Peter," Diana's voice came through the line. "That's going to be a problem. The fire department's here."  
  
"The fire depart-" Peter spluttered. "How did they get here so fast?"  
  
"Don't ask me. But they're evacuating the entire building." Diana had already been pushed back from the main doors. She kept an eye on the doors as much as she could, but people were already streaming out. It was too easy for anybody to leave the building unnoticed.  
  
"Damn. I'll be right there."  
  
Sure enough, not five minutes later he was staring down (or rather, up) a rather bulky fireman, who insisted everybody evacuate immediately.  
  
Peter tried standing his ground. There might be a little fire outside, but the people inside were under no threat.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. Everybody must evacuate now."  
  
"I'm in the middle of a Federal investigation."  
  
The fireman didn't look impressed. "You're evacuating. Now."  
  
It was no use arguing.  
  
Neal had already been placed in a squad car, to be taken downtown for questioning. Peter opened the back door so he could speak to him. "I swear, Neal. You are not going to skip out of this one."  
  
Neal just shrugged with that enigmatic smile of his. "I didn't do anything, Peter."  
  
"Right." Peter slammed the door shut. He was going to figure it all out, and this time, Caffrey was going to go down for it.


	2. Change

Only problem was, it seemed like Neal  _was_  going to escape scot-free this time too. A week later, Peter still didn't have the evidence he needed to close the case.  
  
Following the latest team meeting, Peter remained in the meeting room. Holding his mug of coffee, one arm crossed over the other, he considered the whiteboard and their latest case. Or as he thought of it, his latest debacle.  
  
On the far left was the victim's picture: Abdul Aziz bin Sultan. A Saudi national spending the year in New York. An avid coin collector. The stolen coins were a treasure trove and included 7th century Danish gold coins, 9th century Arab gold coins and 14th century Incan gold coins. But by the time Peter was allowed back up to Neal's apartment, there was nothing there. He had torn it apart anyway, just in case, but he had found nothing.  
  
Bin Sultan's collection was insured, which meant that both the Saudis and their insurance company wanted the coins back, and both were hounding the FBI for results. The State Department was also keeping a close eye on the case.  
  
Their top suspect was Neal Caffrey. Neal's mug shot, taken from his stint in Sing-Sing, stared back at Peter. A slight smile curling up at the edge of his lips. Next to it Peter had posted a grainy picture from Elizabeth's camera feed. Alexandra Hunter. High-end fence and a known associate of Caffrey's. She was spotted at the party, but a careful review of all the video footage they had showed that she appeared only after Bin Sultan's apartment was hit. She hadn't appeared in any of Diana's photos.  
  
Caffrey was still in New York but Hunter had disappeared. The Feds' working theory was that she'd left the country under an assumed name.  
  
Peter suspected the two had at least one additional accomplice to serve as lookout. Caffrey knew the Feds were sitting outside; somebody must have tipped him off. Peter had two agents poring over CCTV pictures from around the building to try and identify him, but so far they hadn't spotted anybody suspicious.  
  
Then there were a few open questions, like how the fireworks just happened to explode right then. The technicians running the show had claimed they had set the fireworks properly and Peter tended to believe them. Or who had called the fire department. They had shown up improbably quickly, and Peter had discovered that they'd been contacted at least five minutes before the fire actually started. The number that had called in was traced back to a burner phone and the call itself sounded distorted.  
  
Peter knew that Neal was behind it all, but proving it was a whole different story.  
  
Neal had been brought in for questioning, but he had a tight-knit alibi. Elizabeth had been with him the whole time and the FBI had both the visual and audio to prove it. Peter couldn't link Neal to anything. Not to the break-in, not to the missing coins, not to the fireworks explosion, and not to the mysterious 911 call.  
  
And yet Peter hadn't lost hope. Caffrey would have to fence the goods at some point, and Peter figured he could get him then. He had told his people to work their contacts. The minute somebody tried to sell off the coins, he'd know about it.  
  
If only he could think of a more direct route.  
  
Peter put the mug to his lips and realized the coffee had gone cold.  
  
With a disgusted sigh, he turned around to put the mug down. Only then did he realize that his boss, Reese Hughes, was still in the room. Hughes had been present during the meeting, and Peter hadn't realized he hadn't left with all the other agents.  
  
"Peter, have a seat."  
  
Peter didn't need his famous gut instinct to know that he wasn't going to like this. He pulled out a chair a few seats down from his boss.  
  
Hughes massaged the bridge of his nose for a short minute before he started talking. "This case is drawing a lot of fire."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Obviously, this can easily become an international incident. The Saudis are not happy and the State Department wants us to make this case top priority. We had two teams on-site, not including your wife, and still Caffrey managed to slip past us."  
  
"But that was part of his plan. He  _wanted_  us there. He-"  
  
"Peter." Hughes held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "The decision has already been made. The Caffrey file is being transferred to Violent Crime."  
  
That stopped Peter in his tracks. "Violent Crime."  
  
"Agent Ruiz is an excellent agent, and he's closed quite a few cases this past year."  
  
The unspoken implication of 'your closure rate has dropped' was quite clear. The FBI did not trust him to close the case, and Peter was not about to let that go without a fight.  
  
"Caffrey is not a violent criminal," Peter protested.  
  
"He blew up a fireworks exhibit in Central Park, started a fire and caused the evacuation of an entire block."  
  
"Yeah, but that's-"  
  
"He's dangerous, Peter. He's a loose cannon and he thinks he has the run of this place. I want him stopped."  
  
"I'll stop him, Reese," Peter said with much more conviction than he felt.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Once he fences the coins-"  
  
" _If_  he fences the coins." Hughes held up a hand to stop his agent. "Peter, Caffrey's not stupid. You know that. He can sit on those coins for years."  
  
"We've still got a few open leads. And even if we don't get him this time, at some point he'll slip up. Criminals always do."  
  
Hughes glanced past Peter, at the whiteboard. "It's time to declare war, Peter. It's no time for kid-gloves."  
  
Peter drew back. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Caffrey's been out of jail for what, a year now? He's been our top suspect in too many cases to count."  
  
"Five." Which didn't include the 'person of interest' cases and the ones where Interpol and Europol asked for help.  
  
"-And yet he managed to slip out of our grasp each and every time."  
  
"He's good." Peter had to hand it to the con-man. He was smart, and he was much more careful this time around. "It took me three years before I caught him the first time."  
  
"Yes, but this time around, he's not on the run. He's living right here, in New York. He's pulling his heists right here. He's thumbing his nose at us."  
  
"We'll catch him."  
  
Hughes stood up. "I'm sorry. This wasn't my call, Peter. And it could have been a lot worse."  
  
Peter bit his lip.  
  
Hughes drummed his fingers on the long conference desk. "I'm not blind. You've got a soft spot for this kid."  
  
Peter sighed. It wouldn't help to pretend that he didn't. "He's not like most of the other guys I've put away. I think I can turn him around. There were a few times I spoke to him, I felt I was reaching him. He-"  
  
"He's a conman." Hughes shook his head. "It's his job in life to convince you you're just a step away from flipping him."  
  
"Reese, I know what this looks like, but I know Caffrey. He's in this for the challenge. He's not a criminal. If only-"  
  
"You're too invested in this kid, Peter, and it's already reflecting badly on your record. My advice? Let Ruiz handle this one and focus on the rest of your caseload. It will be good for you, and good for Caffrey."  
  
Peter wasn't so sure about that.  
  
Hughes stood up. "Ruiz will be coming in later for the hand-off. You'll transfer everything you have. Peter, I want you to give him your full support."  
  
Peter just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He waited until his boss was out the door before he let his fist crash against the table. Damn.  
  
*****  
  
Later that evening, Peter and El were watching a movie. Or rather, El was watching, Peter was staring off, deep in thought.  
  
It didn't take long for El to realize her husband was off in a whole different world.  
  
"Hon?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"I thought a movie would help get your minds off things."  
  
"I'm sorry." Peter rubbed his eyes, then looked blearily at the screen.  
  
"No, don't be." She reached out for the remote and shut the TV.  
  
"Hey! I was watching that-" He stopped when El shot him an amused look. He shrugged in resignation. She was right. He hadn't been watching the movie at all.  
  
El snuggled close, and Peter moved his arm to encompass her. "I was so close," he finally blurted out.  
  
"To catching him?"  
  
"To catching him." Then, after a moment's thought, added, "I don't know, to reaching him."  
  
Peter leaned his head back against the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn't even sure what he wanted any more. In a perfect world, Neal Caffrey would have left prison a reformed criminal and wouldn't have looked back. But this wasn't a perfect world. As much as Peter hoped, deep down, that Neal would wake up - that he'd realize that with his skills, life offered so many legal opportunities to make a living - chances were high Neal would end up in prison. Again. And now it was out of Peter's hands anyway.  
  
Peter sighed, long and hard. "Ruiz... I don't trust him. He doesn't care how he closes his cases. His last case, he closed with a shootout." Peter had looked it up at work. "Three suspects ended up in the hospital. I feel... I feel if only I could knock some sense into him."  
  
"Ruiz?" El looked up at him with surprise.  
  
"Caffrey." Though Peter figured it wouldn't hurt to knock some sense into the chief agent of Violent Crime either.  
  
"Ah." That made slightly more sense. El chewed her lower lip. "You know, Hon... maybe Reese is right."  
  
"About what?" Peter looked over at El.  
  
El stroked his arm. "Neal Caffrey could cost you your job. You think he's giving you a second thought? He's probably living it up right now."  
  
Peter sighed again.  
  
*****  
  
The next day, Peter was sitting in his car, flipping through one of Neal's files. Diana and he were staking out a used bookshop. They had gotten a tip that the Dutchman, their topmost case at the moment, was using the place as a drop point, but so far, he hadn't seen anything suspicious.  
  
Diana had gone on a coffee run, and he was bored.  
  
When Diana came back, Peter closed the file, but not fast enough. Diana spotted Neal's mug shot in there. "I thought we handed all our Caffrey files to Violent Crime." She passed Peter his coffee.  
  
"I had a couple back home," Peter answered. "Hadn't gotten around to sending them over yet." Not that he was going to make  _that_  his top priority. Besides, he wasn't about to share everything he had collected on Neal with Violent Crime.  
  
Diana swallowed a smile. Nobody was happy with Ruiz taking over their case. She sniffed at her paper cup, then gave a tentative sip. "We're never going to have another case like him, are we?"  
  
Peter looked up from his own coffee. "What do you mean?"  
  
Diana shrugged. "I don't know. He's annoying sometimes, but he made things fun. I already kind of miss him."  
  
Peter smiled at that. "Caffrey's got that effect on people."  
  
"Yeah," Diana agreed. She had a gotten a certificate of recognition for being on the team that caught James Bonds. She had been hoping she'll be able to add another one next to it. "And, well, I hate to admit it, but between Ruiz and Caffrey, I'm not sure who I'm rooting for."  
  
"Yeah, Ruiz has that effect on people too."  
  
The two agents exchanged a smile. For a few silent moments, they turned their attention to the shop. One woman stopped to take a look at the books stacked outside, but she moved on without taking anything.  
  
Diana finished her coffee and crumpled up the paper cup. Then she shifted in her seat, trying for a more comfortable position. "Think he's going to catch him?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Ruiz. You think he's going to catch Caffrey?"  
  
"I think it's easy to underestimate him." Wasn't he the expert on underestimating Neal. "But I really don't know. Ruiz likes to tilt the playing field."  
  
"Hm." Diana grinned, "Maybe somebody should warn Caffrey."  
  
Peter glanced at her, a quick smile on his lips. But deep down, he was thinking that maybe somebody should.  
  
*****  
  
Following the heist, Neal had relocated to the Plaza Hotel. A five-star luxury hotel, to be sure, but Neal didn't like the feeling of homelessness that accompanied it.  
  
Neal's place had been thoroughly destroyed by the Feds. They'd tossed everything they could, broke through wall panels, tore up rugs, unscrewed every light-bulb in the place. Renovations would take weeks, though Neal wasn't sure it was worth the effort. Turned out pulling a heist on your neighbor didn't do much for good neighborly relations. Several residents have already made it clear that they'd rather he didn't come back. Even if he was innocent, and none of them seemed to think so, he had brought in unwanted media attention. Theirs was a respectable building, not one to feature on the six o'clock news.  
  
And the worse part of it was that they hadn't even made off with much. Alex had only managed to grab a few handfuls before she had to run, and the loot amounted to just less than five million. After Alex took her share, that left Neal and Mozzie with a million each. If they'd ever manage to fence the coins.  
  
Mozzie had dropped by for lunch, and to discuss their next steps.  
  
Neal picked at his food. Given the circumstances, he hadn't even gotten to have a look at the coins. "Maybe we should give it back."  
  
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."  
  
"We won't be able to sell the coins anyway." The Feds shook down every fence in the city. Nobody wanted to risk taking the coins. "Maybe if we give them back, the Saudis will calm down, then the FBI-"  
  
"You think the Saudis care about these little trinkets? They want us hanged."  
  
Neal shot him a look. "Figuratively, I hope."  
  
Mozzie shrugged. It didn't really matter. "They're not going to be able to keep the pressure on forever, Neal. At some point it will die down and we'll be able to realize our profit."  
  
Neal dropped his fork down with a heavy sigh and reached for his wine glass.  
  
"Oh, stop moping."  
  
"That's the last time I'm doing anything with Alex."  
  
"So that's what's bothering you," Mozzie probed. He really couldn't understand what was bothering his friend. The job didn't go down as planned, and at times the Feds were too close for comfort, but in the end it all worked out. It wasn't the first time and it probably wasn't the last time that they didn't get everything they'd hoped to get. You dusted yourself off and planned better for the next one.  
  
Neal just shook his head.  
  
Mozzie was about to question him further, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Expecting guests?"  
  
"I'll get rid of them." Neal was in no mood for entertaining tonight. He threw his napkin on the table and got up.  
  
Before opening the door, he took a look through the peephole. Then he quickly turned around and mouthed "Feds!" at Mozzie. Mozzie didn't need any more encouragement. Grabbing his wine-glass, he beat a hasty retreat up to the upper level of the suite. From there he could keep watch over what was going on.  
  
Neal waited till Mozzie was out of sight. He took a deep breath, and then opened the door, a welcoming smile on his face. "Agent Burke! What an unexpected surprise!"  
  
*****  
  
Peter knocked on Neal's hotel-room door. A minute later he was greeted by a cheerful Neal. But the man quickly sobered up when he after he caught sight of Peter's somber face. "Is everything okay?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Can I come in?" Then, in explanation: "I just want to talk." Peter raised his hands a little, showing he wasn't carrying.  
  
"Talk about what?"  
  
"I'd rather not start discussing it out here."  
  
Neal considered that for a long moment, but curiosity won out, just as Peter had expected it to. Neal opened the door wider and moved aside to let Peter enter.  
  
It was a big suite, one that Peter could only dream of ever being able to afford. But Peter didn't feel jealousy. He felt pity. For all his wealth, in the end Neal was coming back home to an empty hotel suite.  
  
Or almost empty.  
  
A table by the large picture window was set up for a meal. Peter caught a quick glimpse of two sets of dishes before Neal smoothly directed him into the large living room area.  
  
"You're alone?"  
  
"It's that type of talk?" Neal easily deflected.  
  
The FBI had an agent posted downstairs, watching the hotel security camera feeds. Peter has checked in with her before going up. She'd reported that nobody had gone in to or out of Caffrey's room since the morning. Either Neal had a live-in guest, or it was somebody who had managed to get in sight unseen.  
  
"It- it might be."  
  
"It's not every day I get to host an FBI agent, Peter." Neal carried on talking as he headed for the amenities fridge. "You like beer, don't you?"  
  
Peter stood there, unsure what to do with himself at this stage. "Really, there's no need."  
  
Neal ignored his protestations. "Here, try this one. It's from a Belgian micro-brewery. Has a velvety taste."  
  
Peter wasn't sure he wanted his beer velvety.  
  
Neal popped the bottle open and handed it to Peter. "Come on, sit down." Neal pointed out a couch, then he settle down on the sofa across from it, leaning casually against the leather seats.  
  
Peter sat down, ramrod straight, and took a careful sip, just to be polite. It wasn't to his liking. He figured it was an acquired taste. Peter could never understand the point of doing something you had to learn to enjoy. He held the bottle in his hand, unsure whether he should put it down on the expensive-looking low, wooden table in front of him.  
  
"So..." Neal broke into his thoughts after a few silent seconds ticked by. "You wanted to talk?"  
  
"Look, Neal..." Peter hesitated, unsure how to start. "I don't know how you pulled off that coin heist, I-"  
  
"I have no idea what you're-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Peter waved away the expected claims of innocence. "It doesn't matter. The FBI... My bosses, they've had it. Your case has been reassigned."  
  
"Reassigned?"  
  
"You're now considered a violent criminal, and the FBI is going to come at you with everything they have."  
  
Neal grinned. "The whole 'dead or alive' deal?"  
  
"It's not funny, Neal."  
  
Neal chewed that one over. "Why are you telling me all of this?"  
  
"This might all be a game for you, but for Violent Crime, you're just a target they've got to put away."  
  
It took Neal a moment to realize what Peter wanted. "You're worried about me."  
  
"I know it's hard for you to believe, but I don't want you back in jail. You commit a crime, you do time, that's how it goes. But it's just... Neal, you have an opportunity now. Ever since you got released. You've got talent. You should start over, make a real life for yourself. You don't need this."  
  
"I  _have_  a real life." Neal waved around him.  
  
Peter couldn't help but laugh. "None of this is real. It's all pretend. You continue like this, you're going to end up in jail, if you're lucky."  
  
Neal's face hardened. "I did my time, Agent Burke. I paid my debt to society. But for you I'll always be that criminal you chased. Maybe you're the one who lives in a pretend world."  
  
Peter realized he'd misstepped. He tried again. "Neal, I didn't come here to interrogate you. I want to help you, okay? If there's anything I can do, if-"  
  
Neal just shook his head. "So that's what you came for, Peter? To help out the poor, lost soul? Look, you've made it quite clear what the FBI... what you think of me. But I'm doing just fine without your help."  
  
"Right. Right." It seemed Hughes was right. As much as Peter had thought he'd been close to getting Neal to leave his life of crime, he had just been conning himself.  
  
Peter finally put down the beer bottle. "Well, I guess that's what I came to tell you."  
  
Neal nodded, then suddenly chuckled. "That's the same suit you were wearing when you arrested me."  
  
Peter glanced down at his suit. He had worn his lucky suit and lucky tie for this visit. The same ones he'd been wearing when he finally arrested Neal Caffrey. "Good suits never go out of style."  
  
Neal grinned at him. "We've had some fun times, didn't we?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, we did." Neal just couldn't get it. "Just watch yourself."  
  
*****  
  
Neal closed the door after Peter and waited a few beats to let the man walk away. "Coast's clear, Moz!" he shouted up to where Mozzie was hiding.  
  
"Shhhhhhhhhhhh!" Moz came down the stairs.  
  
Neal rolled his eyes.  
  
Moz had come down with his equipment. He now started to methodically walk around the room, waving around a rod to check for any hidden bugs left behind by the Federal agent.  
  
Neal wandered back to his food. He took a small bite, but it was cold. He dropped the fork back onto his plate. Damn Peter and his caring.  
  
Why did it even bother him what Special Agent Peter Burke thought? He was a criminal. He enjoyed running cons. This was his life.  
  
"Room's clear," Moz announced. When he didn't get a reply he glanced over at Neal, and sighed. His friend was standing by the window. Staring off into the cityscape, deep in thought.  
  
"He's just playing with you," Mozzie said as he put away his equipment. "It's what Suits do."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"This whole job with Alex... I shouldn't have pushed you into it."  
  
"It's not Alex, Moz."  
  
"Whatever it is, you need a break, Neal. My contacts in Prague-"  
  
Neal glanced over at Moz. "Yeah, let's do it."  
  
"Neal, you really should consider-" Mozzie broke off. He had prepared to argue, he didn't think it'd be so easy. It sometimes scared him when Neal gave in too quickly. Though not enough that he wouldn't jump on the opportunity. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah." Then after another beat, Neal repeated, as is to convince himself, "Yeah." Mozzie was right. It would do him good to get away for a while. And as much as he hated letting the FBI decide where he could and couldn't live, it would be stupid to hang around New York when he now had to deal with a new, driven agent intent on proving he'd be the one to catch the great Neal Caffrey. He'd go away for a few months, clear his head, and by the time he came back, the heat would have died down. It was the prudent thing to do.  
  
"Excellent." Mozzie got that satisfied smirk on his face. "I'll get everything ready."  
  
*****  
  
[Prague]  
  
Straddling his work bench, Neal slowly applied the grinder to the metal cylinder before him. He then stopped to take a close look at the pictures he had posted around. High-resolution graphics of the original Crown of Saint Wenceslas, which he was now attempting to forge.  
  
Mozzie sauntered in and plopped himself in an easy chair across from Neal. "Are we all ready for tomorrow night?"  
  
"You worry too much," Neal said, not even bothering to look up.  
  
Mozzie smiled contently. There was nothing better than to see months of planning coming to fruition. Three month setting up in the Czech Republic, a couple more if you included all the preparations and ground work before he'd managed to convince Neal to come.  
  
It was as part of those preparations that he'd rented the villa and set up their aliases. Neal was posing as an Italian count, Mozzie as his valet. They had spent the past three months fitting into the local high-class socialite scene.  
  
Their target were the crown jewels hidden within Prague Castle. There were seven keys to the hidden vault holding the historic relics, each one kept by a different person. Neal and Mozzie mapped out a different plan for each key. Where it was easiest, they broke in and stole it. Leaving a fake key in its stead, to offset suspicion. Others required a bit more ingenuity. Neal had a two week whirlwind romance with the mayor's daughter. She'd been more than willing to show off her father's most kept secret.  
  
If things went according to plan, in a couple more days they would show up at the castle for the annual gala ball thrown by one of Prague's oldest families, and leave with one of the world's greatest treasures in their hands.  
  
Mozzie reached for Neal's copy of the New York Times and started flipping through it. He was thinking of keeping the villa, it could be a nice summer home once he retired. He'd have to buy it off under another assumed name, of course, a few transactions in the middle to throw any snoops off the scent.  
  
Neal scratched his jaw as he considered his efforts so far. The crown had to be convincing enough from afar, but clearly a fake when examined. Just enough to afford them time to escape.  
  
A small gagging sound from Moz made him look up. "Moz?"  
  
"Hm?" Moz started folding up the paper, ever so suspiciously. "Yeah? Everything's okay."  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"Oh, nothing. Go... go back to crown-making. Has to be ready on time, right?" Mozzie got up and started backing away, the paper still in his hands. Neal grabbed the paper before he got out of reach.  
  
Mozzie cleared his throat. "Okay, Neal?"  
  
"Yeah?" Neal straightened out the paper and started flipping through it. Flip, flip, flip. Something here had caught Mozzie's attention.  
  
"Remember how we discussed about you being impulsive?"  
  
Neal didn't bother answering. Flip, flip, flip. He flipped one more page and there it was. A police sketch of suspects wanted in connection with a string of home robberies. The right-hand sketch was Matthew Keller. The left hand one... She looked different now - a mass of curls topped her head - but the similarity was strikingly clear. Kate.  
  
"Neal, whatever you do, think it through first."  
  
Neal glared at Moz, then quickly folded up the paper. "There's nothing to think through." And with that he got up and walked off, paper securely in hand.  
  
"God." Mozzie hurried after him.  
  
In his room, Neal was already throwing clothing into a suitcase.  
  
Mozzie took a deep breath. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Home," Neal replied in clipped tones.  
  
"We've got a job to do."  
  
"Not anymore."  
  
Mozzie shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Look, this isn't new, right?"  
  
"What isn't new?"  
  
"Kate running jobs with Keller."  
  
"With Keller?" Neal threw in a couple more shirts, then topped it off with the newspaper. He stopped to glance at Mozzie. "Matthew Keller?"  
  
"Who else? Come on, Neal. She's been holed up with him ever since you went to prison."  
  
Neal felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. " _What_?!"  
  
"Come on, you  _know_  that, Neal." Mozzie looked up at Neal and froze. He had never seen Neal look so shocked. "Oh."  
  
Without another word Neal closed the latches on his suitcase and, after making sure it was closed tight, grabbed it with him.  
  
Mozzie once again hurried after him. "This might be a trap. The Suits have done it before. Neal!"  
  
"I don't care." Neal threw over his shoulder. "Besides, there's no warrant against me. The Feds can't do anything if I return to New York."  
  
"Besides shooting you on sight."  
  
Neal rolled his eyes. "You've been watching too many Westerns."  
  
Moz ran past Neal to stand in front of the door, arms outstretched to cover the exit. "You can't go."  
  
"Moz."  
  
"At least wait until we finish the job."  
  
"I'm finished with the job." Neal paused a bit, but it didn't seem like Mozzie was going to move. "Moz, get out of the way."  
  
"Neal, I'm begging you. We're so close! Please wait until tomorrow night."  
  
"Moz."  
  
"Let's say you go back to New York. What could you  _possibly_  do to help, anyway?"  
  
Without another word, Neal pushed Moz aside and then he was out the door.  
  
Mozzie hung his head. Just like that, almost half a year of careful planning and hard work went down the drain. All because of Keller. And Kate. And the New York Times.


	3. The Deal

Peter had come home early that day. He and El had planned to go to a new exhibit that just opened up at the Jazz Museum. Or rather, El had planned to go and had convinced Peter it wouldn't be as bad as he feared.  
  
Besides, they'd barely seen each other this past week. Peter had been working on a case that had him spending nights in surveillance. He'd come home to find El already asleep, and by the time he'd woken up, she'd already rushed off to work.  
  
They'd arrested their main suspect that morning, so he deserved a break. After a week of communicating with little sticky-notes and hurried phone calls, he would gladly go with El wherever she wished. Even if it was a jazz exhibit.  
  
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.  
  
"I'll get it," El called out. Peter had gone upstairs to get ready.  
  
Elizabeth opened the door. Her smile froze at the sight of Neal Caffrey.  
  
"Elizabeth." Neal smiled at her. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."  
  
He had counted on her response being automatic politeness, but instead she glared at him. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Is Peter home?" Neal asked in lieu of an answer.  
  
Elizabeth hesitated for just a second, enough of a tell for Neal. "No."  
  
She was about to close the door, but Neal put a hand on the door jamb, preventing her from shutting it in his face.  
  
"Look, I realize I left you with a bad impression. How about I-"  
  
"Peter almost got fired because of you!" Elizabeth said in a loud whisper, not wanting her voice to carry up to Peter.  
  
"Wait..." Neal was taken aback by the accusation. He obviously didn't expect that. "What?"  
  
Just then, Peter appeared behind Elizabeth. "Honey, where did you put my-" he trailed off when he saw Neal. Neal smiled. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Neal's wide smile didn't waver. "Peter, good to see you too."  
  
Peter didn't smile at all. "Answer the question, Neal."  
  
Neal dropped the cheery act. His eyes shifted to Elizabeth, then back to Peter. He was pleading with both of them now. "It's Kate. She's in trouble."  
  
Peter chewed over that one for a beat. Then he stepped out, forcing Neal backwards and down a couple of steps. He looked up and down the street.  
  
Neal followed his gaze. "I'm here alone, Peter."  
  
"Were you following me?"  
  
"What? No!"  
  
"How did you get here?"  
  
"I took a cab." Neal wasn't sure where these questions were leading. "Do you want the receipt?"  
  
"So you were staking out my house." Peter stated it as a fact.  
  
"I didn't-"  
  
Peter cut off the expected denial. "I came home early tonight, Neal. And you just happened to be here a minute after I arrived."  
  
Neal raised a hand to stave off the verbal attack. "Okay, okay. I was waiting for you to come back home, right over there, across the road."  
  
Peter sighed.  
  
Neal could see admitting the truth wasn't enough. "I figured you'd prefer I waited outside till you came home. But, I mean, if you preferred I'd come in and waited here..." He shrugged. "Your wife was home already an hour ago."  
  
Peter opened his mouth to answer, but then shut it resolutely. Caffrey was right. "What do you want?"  
  
"Can I come in?" Neal asked. He saw Peter hesitating and added, "Remember you said you'd help me out?"  
  
Peter sighed. He  _had_  said that. Multiple times.  
  
Once inside the Burke's house, Neal was greeted by a tail-wagging white Labrador. He bent down to pat him. "Hey, boy!" He ran his hand through the dog's fur, then looked up at Peter. "What's his name?"  
  
Peter frowned at Neal. The man had even gotten Satchmo under his spell. "Why did you come here, Neal?"  
  
Neal straightened up. "I told you, Kate's in trouble."  
  
"Kate is Neal's ex," Peter added in explanation to Elizabeth.  
  
Neal gave him a pained look. "She's gotten in with the wrong people. You know how it is."  
  
"I actually don't," Peter said dryly, but then relented. "What kind of trouble?"  
  
Soon Neal was seated at the Burkes' kitchen table. Peter had sat down to hear him out. Elizabeth stood leaning against the kitchen counter.  
  
"It's this gang breaking into people's homes."  
  
"Wait," Elizabeth spoke up. "You mean the Movers' Gang?"  
  
Neal nodded.  
  
The gang had been all over the local news in recent weeks. They've been hitting private homes around town, focusing on elderly, rich owners who lived on their own. They had gotten a name for being courteous and not hurting a fly, but a recent robbery had gone wrong and left two people dead. Their nickname came from the fact that they usually showed up with a moving truck, wearing a nondescript moving company uniform.  
  
Without another word, Peter got up. A minute later he came back with an FBI file. He opened it up on the kitchen table. The top page featured the same wanted ad Neal had seen in the Times.  
  
Peter had recognized Kate the minute he'd seen the NYPD's circular. He had contacted the detective heading the case and had sent over all the information he had. He didn't have much. He had never investigated Kate Moreau directly. He had built up a file on her when he'd been chasing Neal, but after the conman's arrest, she had melted away. The FBI hadn't thought her important enough to keep tabs on her. Until now.  
  
Peter's gaze locked on Neal's. "So far you're not telling me anything I don't know."  
  
Neal had thought he'd surprise Peter. He should have known better. "This guy." He put a finger down on the wanted ad. "His name's Matthew Keller."  
  
That was indeed news to Peter, but he didn't move a muscle to indicate that was so. "So, what? You're part of this gang, Neal?"  
  
"What? No! Peter, I want-"  
  
"But you know this Keller," Peter continued pressing. "You worked with him."  
  
"We have a history together," Neal was willing to admit. "Peter, I want to help you catch them."  
  
Peter blinked in surprise. "You want to help me catch Kate?!" It was hard to believe.  
  
"Here's my deal: I help you catch Keller and his gang, in return for immunity for Kate."  
  
That actually sounded more believable, though not more doable. "They killed two people, Neal. I can't make a deal like that."  
  
"It wasn't Kate, Peter." Neal gave Peter his most earnest look. "I can find out where they're going to hit next. You'll catch them in the act."  
  
Peter frowned. "I don't know." It was a tempting offer. But this was how Neal worked. He made tempting offers.  
  
"I already contacted Keller. We're supposed to meet Wednesday night."  
  
"You did  _what_?!"  
  
"He's using Kate. I can't let him do that."  
  
Peter tried to keep a handle on the conversation. "Tell me more about this Keller guy."  
  
Neal shook his head. "I'll talk only if you agree to give Kate immunity."  
  
Peter could feel his defenses slipping. "If she pulled the trigger, the deal is off."  
  
"Great!" Neal grinned and put out his hand. "So we've got a deal."  
  
Peter smiled at the young man's enthusiasm. It was infectious. "Whoa, hold on. I still need to clear this with my boss."  
  
"If you need me to talk to him..." Neal offered.  
  
"No, that's okay, I think I'll manage." Peter didn't even want to imagine that scenario. "And then we've got to sign an agreement with the DA. After we've got all that... then we've got a deal."  
  
Neal slumped back in his chair. "That's not fun."  
  
"No, it isn't. It's the FBI." Peter paused and considered how to continue. Neal had never come to him of his own accord. This was new territory for him. For both of them. "How do I contact you?"  
  
Neal pulled out a business card and a fountain pen, and in beautifully written script wrote out a phone number. "I'm at the Gansevoort."  
  
"Of course you are." Peter couldn't imagine Neal at anything less than a five-star hotel.  
  
He looked over the card Neal had handed him. It simply said 'Neal Caffrey'. "You make these for all your aliases?"  
  
Neal looked at him blankly. "What?"  
  
"Oh, never mind. Okay, I'll see what I can do and get back to you."  
  
"Thanks, Peter." Neal got up, and gave El a thankful smile. "Elizabeth."  
  
Once Neal was out the door, Peter reached for his phone and started looking for Hughes' phone number. But he stopped mid-dial, a look of concern on his face as he looked up at El. "I'm sorry..." He held up his phone.  
  
El managed a quick smile. She was an FBI agent's wife. She was used to this. Besides which, Neal's story got to her. As much as she was upset at the young thief - for using her, for getting Peter into trouble - here he was, offering to help the FBI out, and willing to risk his life in order to save his girl.  
  
Hughes picked up almost immediately. "Yeah?"  
  
"Reese, I just had a very interesting talk with Neal Caffrey."  
  
"Caffrey?"  
  
"Yeah. He wants to make a deal."  
  
*****  
  
Hughes was still at work, and had asked Peter to join him back at the office. But when Peter approached his boss' door, he realized this was not going to be a one-on-one talk. Another agent was already sitting there.  
  
"Ruiz." Peter greeted him.  
  
Ruiz smiled at Peter when he entered. "Burke."  
  
Hughes glanced up at him. "Have a seat, Peter."  
  
"So, Caffrey's back in New York." Ruiz mused as Peter pulled out the other guest chair. "That's unexpected."  
  
"Why's that?" Peter asked.  
  
"We've been working with the Czech police to take him down. A couple more days, and he would have been in custody."  
  
It had been said to get a rise out of Peter, and Peter wasn't about to give Ruiz the satisfaction of seeing it worked. He couldn't believe Ruiz was about to catch Neal after only three months on the case. Such a success would have reflected extremely badly on Peter. "Hm. Well, he's here now."  
  
Hughes held up a hand to quiet both agents down. "Let's focus on the case at hand, shall we?" He nodded at Peter. "Burke?"  
  
"Caffrey came to me this evening. He's offering to help up catch the Movers' Gang in return for immunity for Kate Moreau."  
  
Ruiz just shook his head.  
  
Hughes added, "NYPD have hit a dead end on this case. If we make a breakthrough, it's going to be a feather in our cap."  
  
"That's if you take Caffrey at his word," Ruiz said. "Knowing Caffrey, this is some elaborate scheme of his. Whatever he's after this time, he's going to leave us hanging in the end."  
  
Peter looked at Hughes. "I know Caffrey, Reese. He's playing straight this time."  
  
Ruiz scoffed at that. "I don't think he knows the meaning of the word. I say we'd be better off using the opportunity to take down Caffrey instead."  
  
Peter turned at him. "He's offering to  _help_  us, Ruiz."  
  
"And you  _believe_  him? I've read his file, Burke. Caffrey has offered his 'help' in the past. Tell me, how did that turn out?"  
  
"He helped me take down a  _murderer_." It hadn't been willingly, at first, but in the end Peter had managed to convince Neal to help out.  
  
Ruiz snorted. "Yeah, but at what price? Giving him a free pass? Again?"  
  
" _Again_?" Peter protested. "What does  _that_  mean?"  
  
"It means you've been getting chummy with your main suspect, Burke. That's what it means." Ruiz continued under his breath, "No wonder he's been running circles around the FBI."  
  
"Gentlemen!" Hughes broke in. He glared at both agents. "Peter, what do you think?"  
  
"It's different this time." There were many reasons why Peter felt it was different. Neal had never come to him of his own accord before. But there was one reason why he  _knew_  it was different. "This is about Kate, and when it comes to Kate, Caffrey wears his heart on his sleeve."  
  
" _Wore_  his heart, Burke," Ruiz interjected. "Past tense."  
  
Peter hesitated, and Hughes looked up at him. "Peter?"  
  
"I used Moreau to catch him, but they haven't been together since. Though I'm sure-"  
  
Ruiz threw up his hands, cutting Peter short. "There you go, then."  
  
"Neal is still in love with her," Peter finished quietly.  
  
Hughes considered the matter. Ruiz had a point. Caffrey had used the Feds as cover before, and if this was just another con, the FBI was going to come out looking ridiculous. And yet, he trusted Peter's instincts. The guy knew Caffrey better than anybody. "We'll go with Caffrey's deal." Peter let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Ruiz, I want you to take point on this."  
  
Peter stirred in his seat. He was not going to get sidelined on this one. "Reese-"  
  
"Burke, you'll be handling Caffrey. I'll speak to the DA."  
  
As Peter and Ruiz left the office, Ruiz turned to Peter. "Funny that, how just as he was gonna get put away, Caffrey showed up at your doorstep."  
  
"What's  _that_  supposed to mean?"  
  
"I don't believe in coincidences, Burke. Just as I get his case, he suddenly disappears. And now he's back again, and he comes to you wanting to help us out." Ruiz shook his head, trying to figure it all out. "He's trying to pull a fast one, I'm just not sure who's his mark this time."  
  
"Or maybe he really just wants to help his girlfriend."  
  
"You really believe that?" Ruiz looked at him, surprised. "That guy would sell off his mother if he could. Best case, he's taking care of the competition."  
  
After Ruiz disappeared, Hughes caught up with his agent. "Burke. Keep a very close eye on Caffrey. If this goes sideways, I don't know how much I'll be able to protect you."  
  
Peter nodded grimly. He had no illusions. Ruiz was not the type of guy to take the fall for anything. If this op went wrong, he'd find a way to pin it all on Peter.  
  
*****  
  
Later that night, Peter and El finally met for a late dinner.  
  
"Maybe we could do something tomorrow?" Peter offered. El had gone to the exhibit alone and Peter wanted to make it up to her.  
  
"Aren't you going to be busy with this new case now?"  
  
Peter sighed. El was right. It probably meant another week of stakeouts.  
  
"Well," he joked, "if this turns out the way Ruiz thinks it will, I might not have to worry about late nights anymore."  
  
"What does Ruiz think?"  
  
"He thinks Caffrey's working a con. I don't know, maybe he's right." He didn't put it past Neal to try something like that.  
  
"You think he was selling us a story? But he seemed so..." she searched for the right word, "so sincere."  
  
"Neal always seems sincere. And he would put on whatever act he needed to get what he wanted. Ruiz said he was about to arrest Neal. Maybe Neal figured it out and this is some sort of payback."  
  
"But you're not involved with his case now."  
  
"Yeah, but he might have figured I'll bring Ruiz into it. Or maybe he's got something else in mind. He could have us watching Keller while he's pulling his own heist under our noses." It wouldn't be the first time.  
  
"Only this time it could really cost you your job."  
  
Peter nodded.  
  
El looked at him with concern. "Could you pull out of it? It's Ruiz's op, isn't it?"  
  
"It is." But Peter wasn't sure he wanted to back out of it. He didn't want to leave Ruiz handling Neal on his own. "But what if Neal is telling the truth? I keep on telling him that I can help him out, that he can always turn to me. And now that he finally does, and he's offering us to bring down a dangerous man, I'm going to turn my back on him. How's that going to look?"  
  
El wasn't sure she cared how it looked. "The question is whether he's worth risking your career over."  
  
Peter picked at his food. It was worth it. If he could get Neal to trust him, to trust the FBI. It was a major step.  
  
Besides, he didn't want to worry El too much, but the sad truth was that whether he pulled out of it now or not, he'd already staked his reputation on Neal Caffrey. If Neal pulled one of his stunts, Peter's job would go down the drain, no matter what.  
  
He'd just have to keep a close watch on Neal and hope his gut wasn't misleading him this time.  
  
*****  
  
The next day, Neal was back in the FBI building. For once, not as a suspect or 'person of interest'. This time he was sitting in the conference room, with one of the District Attorneys, Janice Spartak, looking over his shoulder. Peter was standing across from Neal, leaning against the wall.  
  
Spartak was explaining the deal. "Ms. Kate Moreau will not get carte-blanche immunity. If you will ensure we have the evidence needed to close the case against Matthew Keller, she will not be charged for the burglaries she's been involved with. She will, however, be charged with any other crimes she committed, including murder."  
  
"She didn't," Neal said with certainty.  
  
Removing a contact from her briefcase, Spartak handed it over to Neal and waited for him to peruse it. She looked over at Peter. "This is very unusual."  
  
Neal flipped through the legalese and added his signature with a flourish. Then he looked up. "What is?"  
  
"Uh, we've never made a deal before with a... source who cared more about somebody else getting immunity."  
  
Peter detached himself from the wall. "Neal, you realize Kate's only going to get immunity if we get the evidence we need to put Keller away."  
  
Neal grinned. "You worry too much, Peter." He handed the contract back. "You're going to close your case, don't worry."  
  
Still, Peter worried.  
  
"Mr. Caffrey. Agent Burke." Spartak shook hands with the two men.  
  
Once the door closed behind her, Neal turned to Peter. "Thank you."  
  
"You can thank me by helping us catch Keller."  
  
"Yeah, about that. I'm going to meet with him tomorrow." Neal grinned. "I kind of hinted that I'm down on my luck and that I'm looking to get back into the life."  
  
"Uh-huh." Peter had no illusions about how far away Neal was from getting 'back' into the life.  
  
Neal was still laying out his plan. "He'll take me on, he won't be able to withstand the temptation to lord it over me. Once I'm part of his crew, I'll update you on what I find, and then you can arrest him."  
  
"Uh.. No."  
  
"No?" It had sounded like a good plan to Neal.  
  
"No," Peter repeated. "We're going to send an agent in with you, and he'll be the one joining Keller's crew. I want you here tomorrow morning-"  
  
"Yeah," Neal interrupted Peter mid-sentence, "that's not going to work."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because Keller expects me to come alone."  
  
"Then tell him you've been misunderstood and you wanted to introduce him to your friend." Peter cut off Neal before he could complain about that too. "You're an expert at this, Neal. I trust you can find a way to get him to take on our undercover agent."  
  
Neal chuckled, but the laughter died down when Peter didn't even crack a grin. "You're serious."  
  
"Of course I'm serious."  
  
"You send a Fed in there, Keller's going to smell him a mile away."  
  
Peter smiled tightly. Guys like Neal tended to underestimate the FBI. It was how they got caught.  
  
Neal tried again. "He's not going to bring in anybody he doesn't trust."  
  
"And he trusts  _you_?"  
  
"For now." As far as Neal knew. "I go alone, I'll convince him to let me join his crew. That's the only way it's going to work."  
  
Peter shook his head. "Look, the deal was you help us out. You give us the intel. Nobody said anything about you joining a gang-"  
  
"You want to take Keller down, right?"  
  
"This is not up for discussion, Neal."  
  
"He's a dangerous guy."  
  
"We already know that," Peter replied impatiently.  
  
Neal was quickly learning Peter was a hard guy to convince. He played his trump card. "I was once on Keller's crew."  
  
Neal could see he now had the FBI agent's complete attention. Nothing like a little confession to quiet down a lawman.  
  
"It was a three man job. We were on our way out, and Keller suspected the third guy was going to get us caught. He shot him on the spot."  
  
"And that's supposed to convince me to send you in alone?"  
  
"Keller doesn't take chances. He knows me. He trusts me, okay? I bring in somebody new, they're most likely to end up dead, even if they weren't Feds."  
  
Peter mulled that one over. This was not how he'd planned things. The idea of sending an untrusted source undercover on a possibly explosive mission was unsettling, to say the least. And yet, Neal had a point. They wanted to catch Keller, and the best way to do that was to send in somebody whom he'll never suspect of being an FBI agent.  
  
Peter sighed. "We'll need you wired for that meeting."  
  
"No problem."  
  
"And I want you here tomorrow morning."  
  
"Bright and early," Neal agreed, too cheerfully. "You won't regret this, Peter."  
  
Peter already was. "I'll get an agent to see you out." He opened the conference room door and signaled one of the probies to come up.  
  
After Neal entered the elevators, Peter nodded to Jones. The young agent got up from his desk and hurried towards the elevators. Peter wanted to keep a close eye on his new informant and make sure he wasn't trying to play both sides.


	4. Undercover

Out on the street, Clinton quickly caught up to Neal. The conman wasn't trying to hide and was quite easy to follow, and Clinton was quite experienced. He had tailed the guy quite a few times over the past year. He easily fell into step, keeping some distance between them so that Caffrey wouldn't make him.  
  
Clinton didn't expect this to be any more difficult than all the previous times. Except that this time, it  _was_  different.  
  
One minute the conman was in front of him, the next he was gone. Just like that, Caffrey disappeared.  
  
Clinton turned around, and around again. Looking this way, that way, trying to look in all directions at once. The guy had just vanished into thin air.  
  
With a growing sense of urgency, he started walking towards the spot where he'd last seen Caffrey.  
  
"Excuse me! Excuse me!" Somebody called out behind him. "I think you dropped your wallet."  
  
Clinton turned around, one hand automatically reaching for his back pocket. It was empty.  
  
A smiling Neal Caffrey held out his wallet. "I think you dropped this."  
  
Clinton snatched it back. "I should arrest you."  
  
"Why were you following me, Agent Jones?"  
  
The FBI agent quickly riffled through his wallet, making sure everything was still there. "It's standard procedure."  
  
"You guys have a procedure for everything, don't you?"  
  
"You better believe it."  
  
Neal chuckled at that. Then he took a step back from the FBI agent and considered him critically. "Hm."  
  
"What?" Clinton looked down to see what Caffrey was looking at.  
  
"You look like an FBI agent."  
  
Clinton frowned and straightened his jacket. "I  _am_  an FBI agent."  
  
"Yeah," came back Neal's retort, "but if you're going to be hanging around me for the next few days, you shouldn't  _look_  like one. Come on, I know how we can fix it."  
  
"We?"  
  
Neal started walking, then noticed Jones wasn't following. He turned back to look at the agent with his most engaging smile. "You want to keep an eye on me, right?" As expected, no response from the agent. "You'll do a much better job if you're not trailing ten feet behind me."  
  
Clinton cleared his throat. In all his years in Quantico they'd forgotten to mention what happened when your surveillance target invited you along for a walk.  
  
*****  
  
It was cramped in the van with Ruiz's team, Peter and Neal. Who was getting bored with all the setup a simple surveillance required. First make sure the agents were in place, then an audio-check, a visual-check, another check of all agents. Besides, the van had a musty odor to it, and the FBI agents around him didn't even seem to notice.  
  
It had taken some convincing, but Peter had managed to get first Hughes and then Ruiz on board with the plan to send Neal in, on his own. But this meant ensuring that the surrounding FBI support was at an even higher readiness level than usual, in case they needed to step in.  
  
Neal peeked at Peter. "Why'd you have Agent Jones tail me, Peter?"  
  
Peter ignored him.  
  
"You don't trust me."  
  
Peter didn't think that was worthy of reply. "Was there a point in taking him shopping?"  
  
"I didn't want Keller to see me being tailed by the FBI."  
  
Peter harrumphed. "So you bought him a new wardrobe."  
  
Neal grinned, surreptitiously looking around to check how the other agents were responding. He caught sight of a few smiles, which he took as a good sign. "You've got to admit it looks-"  
  
"You're getting it all back once this op is over." Before Neal could answer, Peter held out a watch. "Here, take this."  
  
Neal took it and looked it over. It was an obviously fake Rolex. "What's it for?"  
  
"It's got a transmitter and recorder. It will allow us to listen in on your meeting."  
  
Neal had meanwhile put the watch on, and now turned his hand this way and that way to see how it looked. It looked just as fake.  
  
"If he's going to run a scanner on you, you can turn it off here." Peter pointed out the proper button. "Turn it back on the same way. Got all that?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"There's an agent in the bar who'll keep an eye out if you need help."  
  
"Yeah, I'd rather-"  
  
"If you need immediate extraction, for any reason, say 'beautiful day', we'll be there."  
  
"How do you come up with all this stuff?" Neal had thought Mozzie was paranoid, but the FBI put him to shame. Every move was taken straight out of a 1950s spy novel.  
  
Ruiz opened the van door and climbed in. "We're all set. Caffrey's ready?"  
  
Neal flashed him a smile. "Yeah, I'm-"  
  
"Neal." Peter quieted him down with a warning look. "We'll be ready in just a minute." Then, back to Neal, "So, your code word for any emergency is 'beautiful day'."  
  
"Got it."  
  
"Say it."  
  
Neal had no idea why he had to go through this. The entire van was now looking at him. He repeated it with exaggerated intonation. "It's  _such_  a  _bea-u-u-utiful_  day."  
  
Peter took a deep breath as he ran through his mental checklist. He'd dealt with informants before, but this was the first time he was sending one into the field. It was very risky, even without the added Caffrey challenges. As much as Caffrey exuded confidence, he wasn't a trained agent.  
  
"Okay." Peter took another deep breath, then clapped Neal on the arm. "Good luck."  
  
Neal grinned at the FBI agent. The guy couldn't have been tenser. "Don't worry, Peter. It's gonna be a piece of cake."  
  
He flashed a smile at the other agents before he exited the van.  
  
Ruiz rolled his eyes at Peter. "I hope you're right this is going to be worth it. Okay, let's get this show on the road."  
  
*****  
  
Neal entered the bar, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting inside. Matthew Keller was sitting deep within, at a table which allowed him to see the comings and goings.  
  
"Caffrey!" He waved as Neal got closer. "Have a seat!"  
  
Neal pulled out a chair.  
  
A waitress appeared with a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses.  
  
Keller shot a glance at his guest as he filled them up. "I admit I didn't expect your call. Not after last time."  
  
They had not left off on the best of terms. Neal shrugged. "Times have changed."  
  
"They sure have. Four years being put away. Man, I can't imagine that."  
  
"I've put it all behind me," Neal said simply. He did not want to start discussing prison life with a gloating Keller.  
  
"Yeah?" Keller laughed and tapped Neal's watch. "Neal Caffrey resorting to fakes. I didn't think I'd see the day."  
  
Neal moved his watch around his wrist. "It's been a slow year."  
  
"Yeah. I heard the Feds have come down hard on you." Keller tsk-tsked. "I don't understand why you're staying in New York."  
  
"It's a hard town to leave."  
  
Keller just shrugged. "They're all the same, Caffrey. But, you know, Kate says the same thing. Something about this city. Maybe it's all those shared memories, eh, Caffrey?"  
  
Neal smiled a tight little smile.  
  
"Yeah, she told me about your cons together. About the time-"  
  
"We've lost the feed," the agent monitoring the audio announced from her station. She was fiddling with the electronic equipment.  
  
The agent inside the bar updated that everything was normal. Caffrey was still talking with the target.  
  
Ruiz gave Peter a scathing glance. "Your CI's gonna ruin the op."  
  
Peter just shook his head, but he knew Ruiz was right. It had to be Neal.  
  
"Oh, there. We're back."  
  
Neal was speaking. "... come here to reminisce, Keller."  
  
"Right, right. Down to business, as they say. We could actually use a guy like you."  
  
"Whatever you want me to do."  
  
"But we do things my way, Caffrey."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Keller smiled. "Times really  _have_  changed."  
  
"Look, Keller, I'd be lying if I'd said I'm looking forward to this. Right now, I need the cash."  
  
"All your assets tied up?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
Keller had the decency to sound sympathetic. "We've all been there, Caffrey."  
  
"So we have a deal?"  
  
"How can I refuse you, Neal?" Keller raised his glass. "To old partnerships, eh?" But then something caught his attention behind Neal.  
  
Neal turned around. Making her way now through the bar was Kate. She had a wig on, and dark sunglasses hid her eyes, but otherwise she was the same girl he remembered.  
  
She nodded at him when she got closer. "Neal."  
  
He managed a quick smile. "Kate."  
  
She grabbed a chair from a nearby table and joined the two men.  
  
Neal couldn't take his eyes off Kate, a fact which didn't pass unnoticed by Keller. He laughed. "What a reunion, eh? Neal's going to join us. What do you say, Babe?"  
  
In the van, the agent announced, "We've lost the feed again."  
  
Ruiz let out a string of curses. "This is ridiculous, Burke."  
  
Peter stopped Ruiz. "Let me handle him."  
  
*****  
  
"Hey!" Neal showed up in the van, throwing smiles in every direction.  
  
Peter wasn't buying it. "What the hell were you doing?"  
  
Neal had closed the deal. He'd gotten Keller on tape recruiting him to the gang. He'd expected a happy FBI team, not an angry agent. A quick glance around the van showed him that Peter wasn't the only one who wasn't happy. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully.  
  
"You shut off the recording," Peter said, as if that explained everything.  
  
Neal had the grace not to try and deny it. "You didn't miss anything. He didn't say anything incriminating."  
  
"That's not the point!"  
  
Neal was getting tired of being shouted at. "Then what  _is_  the point?"  
  
"We have a deal, Neal."  
  
"A deal I'm following."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Peter glared at him. "If this is some con you're running, I swear, Neal, I'll make sure both you and Kate get locked up."  
  
"I'm not running anything, Peter."  
  
"Then why'd you stop the recording?"  
  
"You told me-"  
  
"I  _told_  you you should stop it to avoid detection, not every other sentence. What was it? You didn't want him incriminating you?"  
  
"What? No."  
  
A flicker of realization crossed Peter's face. "You didn't want him incriminating  _Kate_."  
  
Neal didn't respond. Peter had hit it on the mark.  
  
"Neal, we signed a deal, we-"  
  
Neal's phone rang. "Excuse me." He tapped the phone to answer, leaving Peter to throw his hands up in frustration.  
  
"Yeah." Neal put a finger to his lips. That's all he needed right now, FBI agents in the background.  
  
Keller wasted no time getting to the point. "We're meeting tomorrow to plan our next target. I'll update you when and where."  
  
"Great. Uh, listen... Is... Is Kate going to be in on this too?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I prefer not working with Kate."  
  
"Star-crossed lovers no more?" Keller guffawed. "You're either in or out, Neal. It's my crew."  
  
"But-"  
  
"My crew, Caffrey. You got that?"  
  
"Yes. Yeah, I got it."  
  
"In or out?"  
  
"I'm in."  
  
"I'll be in touch." Keller hung up.  
  
Neal looked up from his phone and discovered Peter glaring at him. "What?"  
  
"It's like talking to the wall."  
  
"What?" At Peter's grim face, realization dawned. "You're talking about Kate?"  
  
"You start playing games, Neal, it's going to get our case thrown out. Keller's lawyers are going to claim entrapment. That recording we just made?" Peter pointed a finger towards the listening station, "Most likely the judge will throw it out."  
  
Neal frowned. "Throw it out? Why?"  
  
Peter couldn't believe Neal could really be so obtuse. "Because it's cut up, and I can't prove it wasn't done by us."  
  
"But it  _wasn't_  done by you."  
  
"This isn't a con, Neal. It's an FBI operation. You want to continue this deal, you follow my orders."  
  
Neal thought he'd been doing exactly what the FBI wanted. "Sure."  
  
"Good." Peter took a deep breath. "Okay. So when are you going to meet Keller again?"  
  
"He said he'll be in touch." Neal didn't want to mislead the FBI, but he figured he'll give himself some room to maneuver in case he needed it.  
  
"You contact me immediately when he does."  
  
"Of course," Neal answered agreeably. "You're going to keep your tail on me?"  
  
Peter just gave him a withering look.  
  
"Right."  
  
*****  
  
It was late by the time Neal finally made it back to his hotel room. He had never realized how much time and effort went into an FBI operation. You had your pre-op meetings, your post-op meetings. Everything had to be reviewed and written down. In triplicate, if possible. Most of it was a complete waste of time, of course.  
  
Neal had tried making a few helpful suggestions, but all he got for his troubles was Peter looking as if he was about to explode, and a few eye-rolls and sniggers from all the other agents. As if  _he_  was the abnormal one.  
  
Closing the door behind him, Neal headed to the kitchenette, where he poured himself a glass of wine. After a whole day of having to deal with both Keller and the FBI, he needed to relax and unwind.  
  
Turning around, he gave a very undignified yell. The glass fell on the carpeted floor, staining it a dark red.  
  
"Moz!" He inhaled deeply to steady himself. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Mozzie shrugged innocently. "There was no point in staying in Prague, was there?"  
  
Neal blinked at him. "I mean, here, Moz. What are you doing  _here_  here? And how did you even-" Neal started waving a hand around to encompass the room. "How? Why?" He paused for a beat. "No. Let's start with the how."  
  
Mozzie just waved the question away. "What did you expect me to do?" He looked around, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "The Suits are following you, Neal. Everywhere."  
  
"I know, Moz."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Neal considered giving Moz the run-around. But he just wasn't up to playing a three-way game.  
  
"I'm helping the Feds catch Keller, in return for them staying off Kate."  
  
Mozzie considered that for a long moment. "What's the endgame?"  
  
Why did everybody think he was running a con? "That  _is_  the endgame, Moz. Keller gets arrested, they let Kate go."  
  
It took Mozzie even longer to process  _that_. "You mean, you're working with the Federal government?"  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"You're working... Neal, it's the FEDERAL GOVERNMENT!"  
  
"Yeah. I got that the first time."  
  
"Okay, okay," Mozzie started muttering to himself. "Don't worry, Neal. We can fix this."  
  
"There's nothing to fix, Moz."  
  
With no warning, Mozzie grabbed Neal's arm and pulled his sleeve up.  
  
Neal pulled his hand back. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Checking for needle marks."  
  
"What the hell, Moz?"  
  
"Sometimes it's the only way to know they'd gotten to you." He looked at Neal with a worried frown. "Have you experienced any loss of time since you came back from Prague?"  
  
"Moz. I'm fine, okay?"  
  
"You're working with the Suits. Obviously, you're not fine."  
  
Neal stepped away from Mozzie, but his friend wasn't finished. "Have you been having strange dreams?"  
  
Neal really wasn't up to playing Mozzie's games. "You knew all along she was with Keller, you never said a word."  
  
"I didn't?" Mozzie took a careful step back. "Hm."  
  
"No, you didn't." Neal glared at his friend.  
  
"I must have forgotten to mention it."  
  
"You must have." Neal went to get himself a new glass of wine.  
  
Mozzie preferred getting the heat off of himself, and back where it belonged. "Whatever makes you think you can trust the Suits?"  
  
"It's Peter Burke. I trust him."  
  
Mozzie mouthed the words 'It's Peter Burke'. "We're talking about the same guy who sent you to four years in a super-max?"  
  
"That's right." Neal seemed unconcerned.  
  
"He's a Suit just like any other, Neal. His only purpose in life is to destroy any good patch of earth still left for us to enjoy."  
  
Neal brought his drink back to the living room. "Overstating much, Moz?"  
  
"So, what? You think you'll give them Keller and they'll just let Kate go?"  
  
Neal settled down into a couch. "Exactly. I've got a signed deal."  
  
"With the devil."  
  
Neal just rolled his eyes. He had made a mistake, he should have just made up a story for Moz. It would have been easier than dealing with  _this_. "Moz, just let it go, alright? I'm helping them this one time, they're helping me, and that's it."  
  
Mozzie threw his hands up in the air. Neal's naivete was touching - a happy little kid sure that everybody was looking out for his interests - but at some point, Neal was going to discover the sad truths about life. You never ever put your faith in the Suits, even if they were called Peter Burke.  
  
He went to get himself a glass of wine. He needed a drink.  
  
*****  
  
That night, in their bedroom, Peter paced the room, talking, while El got ready for bed. "He's going to ruin the entire op. For all I know, he's doing it on purpose."  
  
In the bathroom, El gurgled something in reply.  
  
Peter continued pacing. "He's not an FBI agent, he doesn't have the training, I'll grant him that. But he's a smart kid. He knew exactly what he was doing." Peter reached the wall and turned around to start pacing his way back.  
  
El came back into the bedroom, toweling her face off. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but he's doing exactly what you'd expect him to do."  
  
"Really?" Peter looked at her with surprise. "I expect him to do whatever he feels like? We signed a deal. If he's serious, he'd follow it."  
  
"No. I mean... Ruiz suspects he has an ulterior motive, right?"  
  
Peter nodded. "Right."  
  
"And you think he's helping you out because he still loves his girlfriend."  
  
"Kate, yeah."  
  
"All he's doing is trying to protect her. Wouldn't you be suspicious otherwise?"  
  
Peter had to admit El had a point.


	5. Kate

The Violent Crime division offices were located two floors above the White Collar offices, and as far as Neal could tell, they were an exact copy/paste. FBI internal designers (if they had any) had no vision whatsoever.  
  
Earlier that day Neal had met with Keller and his crew to discuss their next hit. The FBI had, of course, taped the entire session. Now the FBI were making  _their_  plans for the takedown. Neal was there in case they had any questions. It had been interesting for the first five minutes or so.  
  
Ruiz was standing at the head of the long conference desk, leading the meeting.  
  
"The gang are going to hit the Ellington mansion." He pulled a map over. The agents around the table leaned forward to get a better look. "It's on Riverside Drive. Right here."  
  
"They've been staking out the place over the past couple of weeks. The owner is an elderly lady. It's just her and a couple of live-in maids. Monday night is their night off, and the owner usually spends the night on her own." Ruiz turned to one of his lackeys. "A Ms. June Ellington. Get her down here, we'll need to brief her."  
  
"Right."  
  
Ruiz continued. "We'll have an agent wait there instead."  
  
"They know what she looks like," Neal pointed out.  
  
His interruption earned him a quiet glare from Ruiz. "They don't know what her son looks like."  
  
"Actually, it would work better if you use a young woman, so as not to scare them off. But you'll need somebody who doesn't look too much like an FBI agent."  
  
Peter was sitting next to Neal. He muttered quietly, "We know how to do undercover work, Neal."  
  
But Neal wasn't really listening. He looked around the table, giving the agents a critical appraisal. "Not any of these people."  
  
"Caffrey," Ruiz decided he's had it, "enough with the interruptions. Now, their plan is to disconnect the phones, disarm the security system, and then clean out the place."  
  
Neal raised a hand.  
  
"Yes, Caffrey?"  
  
"They'll have a lookout outside, so you'll need to come in without him seeing you."  
  
Ruiz smiled grimly at that. "Oh, don't you worry about that. Now, it's going to be five guys, including Caffrey. They'll drive up in a moving van and will be wearing uniforms. The driver's going to stand lookout, the other four will be inside." Ruiz noticed Caffrey checking his watch. "Caffrey!"  
  
Neal looked up again.  
  
"Am I boring you?"  
  
Neal smiled sweetly. "I've never been more fascinated in my life."  
  
"What about weapons?"  
  
Neal considered that. "Keller's going to have one, for sure."  
  
"This guy, Warren, who's on the crew, what about him?"  
  
"I suppose so."  
  
"And Keller's girlfriend? Moreau?"  
  
Neal looked over at Peter for help, but the White Collar agent wasn't very sympathetic. "Answer the question, Neal."  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Ruiz looked at him long and hard. "Right. Assume everybody is armed and dangerous. Neutralize any suspect on sight-" Once again Neal raised his hand. "Yes?"  
  
"When you say 'neutralize', what do you-?"  
  
"I mean we do not want to end up with a hostage situation." He could see the informant had more to say on the matter, but he wasn't about to start a discussion on the issue. "Caffrey, enough with the questions. Now, in order to keep your cover, you'll be arrested as well. Don't expect any special treatment."  
  
Neal just nodded. The agents around him were all in a smiling, good mood. They were looking forward to this.  
  
"This should be obvious, but I'll say it anyway. When we come in, you will surrender immediately. You are not to draw any weapon on our team."  
  
"No problem," Neal answered. To the agents around him he explained, "I don't like guns."  
  
Ruiz looked around the desk. "Anybody have any more questions for Caffrey?" He got a few shrugs in reply. "Caffrey, I want you back here tomorrow at 7AM sharp-"  
  
Neal frowned. The hit was only planned for late afternoon. "Seven?"  
  
"Sharp. We'll go over the final plans and fit you out with surveillance." Ruiz didn't want to take any chances. He fixed his glare at Neal. "Seven AM."  
  
"Yeah. Sure."  
  
Ruiz waited a few silent beats. "Thank you." He looked at Neal meaningfully.  
  
Peter sighed. "Neal."  
  
Neal glanced round the desk, at the expectant faces of the agents, realization dawning that Ruiz wanted him gone. As much as he'd been bored till now, he would have loved to stay around and hear what Ruiz thought he shouldn't be hearing. "Oh. Right. So... I'll see you all tomorrow, at seven."  
  
"Tomorrow at seven."  
  
*****  
  
Outside the conference room, in the little office kitchenette, Neal caught up with Jones, who was sipping a cup of coffee (or the nearest Fed equivalent). "Want one?" the agent offered.  
  
"You realize we can get real coffee downstairs, right?"  
  
Clinton chuckled. "I guess I've been drinking this for too long."  
  
"Yeah." Neal shuddered at the thought. Not even being able to tell when you were drinking bad coffee. But this was an excellent opportunity to fish for information. "Actually, you know what. I will have a cup."  
  
"Sure." Jones busied himself with the coffee machine, and soon handed Neal a cup of so-called coffee.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Yup."  
  
"So... " Neal shifted his coffee cup from one hand to the other. He nodded towards the conference room. "Have you done this often?"  
  
"Takedowns? Sure."  
  
"No. I mean, working with..." Neal hesitated which word to use, "with people like me."  
  
Clinton had no such problems. "CIs."  
  
Neal preferred not to think of himself as an informant, though he had to admit that that's exactly what he was. "Yeah."  
  
"Oh, yeah." Clinton hid his smile as he downed his coffee. And each informant that came through here thought they were the only ones.  
  
"So what's the top secret discussion there?"  
  
Clinton followed Neal's gaze up to the conference room, now realizing where all those questions were coming from. "Oh, that. It's just preferable that you don't know all the details ahead of time. That way you'll react more realistically." Not to mention that the Bureau didn't want criminals aware of all the resources at its disposal.  
  
"Ah." Neal had to admit it made sense.  
  
"Caffrey." Clinton waited till Neal's gaze moved back to him. "My suggestion? You focus on doing  _your_  part tomorrow, let us do  _our_  part, and everything will be fine."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Clinton looked at him for a long, silent moment, then shook his head.  
  
Neal raised an eyebrow. "What?"  
  
"You want me to spell it out for you?" At Neal's baffled expression, he sighed. "This really better be all about helping out your girlfriend."  
  
"It is."  
  
"Right."  
  
"You don't trust me," Neal said, surprised. He had spent close to a week with the agents and had already delivered evidence against Keller, just like he'd promised. And yet it still seemed they thought he was conning them.  
  
"Nope." Clinton threw his empty cup into the trash. Caffrey was a nice guy in person, but he was still a thief, responsible for half a dozen cold cases and millions in stolen art. "Come on, let's go."  
  
But Neal was still chewing this over. "And Peter? I mean, he doesn't trust me either, right?" After all, he had Jones tailing him.  
  
"Peter?" Clinton repeated. "Let's say it this way... this wasn't my call. If it were up to me, you wouldn't be here right now." His voice turned hard as he continued, "You pull one of your tricks tomorrow, Peter's gonna take the fall for it. And then I'm gonna come after you. You got that?"  
  
Neal hadn't seen that coming. He nodded. "Yeah. I got it." He had thought this deal was a win-win for both sides, with the worse case for the FBI being that they wouldn't get the evidence they wanted. It hadn't occurred to him that Peter might be taking a personal risk.  
  
Clinton smiled. "Good."  
  
Neal hadn't touched his coffee, but it didn't seem the agent had noticed. As he followed Jones out, he glanced back at the conference room. Peter happened to turn around just then. He caught sight of Neal, smiled one of his tight, little smiles, then turned back to the discussion.  
  
It seemed trust came in many colors.  
  
*****  
  
The FBI van was parked around the corner from the thieves' target. The homeowner, June Ellington, was sitting in the van, together with Ruiz and Peter. Earlier that day they had set up audio and video feeds inside the house. The screen showed a split view of all the feeds coming in, and one of Ruiz's men was monitoring it. Another agent was listening in on Neal's audio feed. For now it was mostly silent. The gang was on its way.  
  
The Feds had set up one team inside. Two more teams were parked down the street, ready to spring into action when necessary.  
  
"Here they come," Ruiz said into his walkie-talkie. The op was on.  
  
A moving van drove slowly down the street and stopped by the Ellington mansion. A few minutes later, Keller jumped out of the driver's cabin. He went round the truck to open up the back, where the rest of the gang was seated.  
  
Neal and Warren started taking out folded up cardboard boxes and bubble wrap rolls, while Keller and Kate approached the house. They walked up the steps and rang the bell.  
  
They expected to see an elderly lady answering. Instead, the door was opened by a young woman.  
  
Diana, wearing jeans and a flowery blouse, looked at the two with a quiet smile. "Yeah?"  
  
Kate and Keller exchanged a glance, but Kate forged ahead. "Is this the Ellington residence? We're looking for June Ellington."  
  
"Yeah. June's my grandma."  
  
When no more information seemed to be forthcoming, Keller asked, "Is she around?"  
  
"No, she went out to visit a friend."  
  
"Oh. Well, we were called in to assist with a move."  
  
"She didn't tell me anything about it. Look, I think you've got the wrong place." Diana was about to shut the door on them, but Keller reached out to force the door open. In his other hand he had a gun.  
  
Diana's eyes went wide. "What is this?"  
  
"We do not want any trouble. Keep your mouth shut, and nobody gets hurt, got it?"  
  
Diana nodded.  
  
"Now take five steps back."  
  
Kate and Keller walked in after Diana, and closed the door behind them.  
  
*****  
  
In the FBI van, the agents watched in silence as Diana was marched into the next room and forced down into a chair. "Oh my," June mumbled. "I didn't realize-"  
  
"She's a trained agent, Ms. Ellington," explained Ruiz. "Don't worry."  
  
"We don't want to hurt you, okay?" Kate repeated, while Keller held his gun on the undercover agent.  
  
Kate took out a roll of packaging tape and started taping the agent into place. At a nod from Kate, Keller left her to finish the job.  
  
Ruiz shook his head. "This is the innocent one, uh?"  
  
Out in the entrance room, Keller now opened the door, and signaled the rest to come in.  
  
Once inside, Neal dropped the stuff he was carrying. "What did you do to that woman?"  
  
Keller shot him a look. "Focus on your job, Caffrey."  
  
Kate appeared from a side room and took a look around. "Wow," she breathed out. It was an impressive house, and the art was even more impressive.  
  
Keller tapped Neal's shoulder. "Caffrey."  
  
Neal nodded, and moved over to the wall, which was crammed full of paintings. His job was to identify the pieces worth taking. "This one." He pointed at the one he meant. "This, this, and that one over there."  
  
Keller started taking down the paintings from the wall, putting them down carefully on the floor.  
  
Kate took down a small reproduction from the wall. It featured a couple in a little boat on the river. The woman with a white parasol.  
  
Neal glanced over at it. "That's worth five dollars, at most."  
  
"Yeah, well, I like it." But she did put it aside.  
  
Keller stopped Kate. "Kate, go upstairs and check if there's a safe."  
  
"Right."  
  
Neal looked after her with some concern. He had no idea where the FBI agents were lying in wait. "Maybe I should go up?"  
  
Keller didn't even spare him a glance. "You stay right here and do your job."  
  
Neal was about to argue, but then thought better of it. Instead he moved his attention back to the art. "That statue over there."  
  
In the van, Ruiz brought the walkie talkie to his lips. "All teams, go!"  
  
Two unmarked cruisers sped down the street and screeched around the moving van. Armed agents spilling out with shouts of "FBI! Don't move!"  
  
At the same time, inside the house, the agents came out. "FBI! Hands on your head! Now!"  
  
Neal raised his hands, just as he'd been instructed. Keller glanced at Neal, then at the FBI agents. Then back at Neal.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" Keller turned on Neal. Neal, who already had his hands up, was caught unprepared for the assault. Before he could react, Keller had him down on the floor.  
  
Keller straddled him and kept on throwing punches. It was all Neal could do to keep his hands up and try to protect his face.  
  
"You ratted us out!" Keller shouted in between punches.  
  
"I didn't!" Neal avoided a right punch to his jaw only to have Keller's left fist connect with his cheek.  
  
"I brought you in, for old times' sake, and this is how you pay me back?"  
  
It took a moment for the agents to react. Guns out, a few tried to take aim, but hesitated, afraid to hit their informant.  
  
"Keller, I swear, I've got nothing to do with this."  
  
"Don't insult my intelligence, Caffrey. I bring you in, and two days later, the Feds show up. You do the math."  
  
Ruiz and Peter had meanwhile appeared at the door. Peter quickly took stock of the situation. He holstered his gun and pushed several agents out of his way as he ran over and grabbed hold of Keller's shirt, dragging him back. It took another two agents to get the man under control. Even then, he was still shouting as he was dragged out, "I'll kill you, Caffrey! You're not going to get away with this!"  
  
Ruiz grabbed hold of Caffrey and hauled him to his feet. Neal was breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight and did not put up any resistance. As he cuffed Neal's hands behind his back, the agent whispered in his ear, "Consider this a dry run, Caffrey. Next time, we'll be doing this for real."  
  
Neal was about to answer, but he was interrupted by a clear, loud voice. "Put down your guns!"  
  
The room fell quiet as the agents realized Kate was holding a gun to Peter. The agent had his hands in the air.  
  
"Kate," Neal called out. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm not going to jail, Neal."  
  
"But you're not-"  
  
"Kate," Peter cut him off. He was speaking in measured tones. "Don't make a bad situation worse."  
  
Kate looked round the room. All agents now had their guns aimed at her.  
  
"You know all about that,  _Agent_  Burke, don't you? Tell me, did you use Neal like you used me? Or did you pay him to turn on his friends?"  
  
Peter locked eyes with Neal. He thought he saw the con-man give a small shake of his head. "Why don't you put down the gun and we'll talk?"  
  
"You think I'm stupid, Burke?"  
  
"No, you're not." Peter answered. "Which is why I don't think you're going to shoot a Federal agent."  
  
Ruiz took a step forward. "You're surrounded, Moreau. You have nowhere to go."  
  
Peter couldn't believe Ruiz. The other agent was going to get him killed. He tried to keep his voice steady. "You're not a murderer, Kate. Put down your gun. Nobody needs to get hurt."  
  
"You heard the man, Moreau," Ruiz said. "Put down the gun! Now!"  
  
Kate swung her gun at him. A shot rang out. Ruiz had fired his gun. Kate took an unsteady step back, surprise on her face. And then her legs buckled under her. Peter spun around and hurried to kick the gun away from Kate, who was writhing on the floor.  
  
"KATE!" Neal yelled out. With everybody's attention focused on Kate, he had been working on getting the cuffs off his wrists. He now managed to click open the one on his left hand. Finally free, he rushed over to where Kate was lying and dropped to his knees. "Kate!"  
  
Her face had gone completely pale. An agent was already applying pressure to her abdomen, blood was seeping everywhere. An ambulance siren sounded outside.  
  
"Kate! It's okay, Kate."  
  
She gritted her teeth against the pain. Her eyes now just points of blue. "God, Neal." She shuddered.  
  
Neal reached for her hand. It was cold. Deathly cold. "Kate, hold on. Come on. Everything's going to be alright, Kate."  
  
Ruiz holstered his gun and looked around the room. He nodded towards Neal. "Get him out of here."  
  
Peter put a hand out to stop him. "He just helped you get your collar. And that's his girlfriend you just shot down."  
  
"So?"  
  
Peter glanced over to where Neal was still sitting by Kate. "So you can wait a bit before hauling him off."  
  
Ruiz just shook his head. But he nodded to his agents to back off.  
  
*****  
  
Neal was sitting in the back of an FBI car. A medic had given him an icepack, and he was holding it up to his bruised face.  
  
All he could see was Kate's face as she was taken away by the medics. Silently begging him for help. Then she'd been loaded into an ambulance. He wasn't even sure how he'd gotten into this car.  
  
Peter opened the car door. "Neal?" His criminal charge had sustained some injuries - a couple of bruises on his face were now turning purplish - but Peter was more concerned about his mental state. "How are you doing?"  
  
"Peter," Neal turned beseeching eyes towards Peter. "I've got to see her."  
  
"I'll see what I can do." Peter couldn't see how Neal would be allowed to. Kate would be in surgery for a while and then she'd be off-limits to anyone until she could be interrogated. But Peter just couldn't say 'no' outright. "She's going to be okay, Neal," he added, encouragingly. "The medics said her injuries didn't seem life threatening."  
  
Neal just nodded. His clothes had Kate's blood on them.  
  
"We're going to take you downtown first. We've got to take your statement."  
  
Neal leaned back into the cruiser seat. "It's all my fault."  
  
"Neal-"  
  
"If I hadn't come to you, none of this would have happened. Kate - she wouldn't have gotten hurt."  
  
"You don't know that."  
  
Neal just shook his head.  
  
"Kate was wanted by the NYPD. They would have gotten her, with or without your help. If she intended to shoot her way out of it..."  
  
Peter could see he wasn't convincing Neal.  
  
*****  
  
Inside the mansion, Ruiz was showing June around. The thieves had been arrested, nothing had been stolen, and yet everything had changed. Outside, yellow police tape marked the house as a crime scene. Inside, the place had been taken over by a forensics team that was carefully tagging every square inch of the place.  
  
The floor was still splattered with blood where Kate had been shot.  
  
June stopped by the reproduction Kate had picked out. She lifted it carefully and wiped the glass of fingerprints.  
  
"The art they've taken off the walls will be needed for evidence, but you should have it all back within the week, Ms. Ellington."  
  
"Thank you, Agent Ruiz."  
  
Ruiz smiled at her. "Just doing our job."  
  
June reached out to touch the empty spaces on the wall.  
  
"I'd also like to thank that young man you had working for you." She had already personally thanked Agent Berrigan.  
  
"He's a criminal."  
  
June smiled sweetly. "He saved my home, Agent Ruiz. I have a few items that are worth money, but that can always be replaced. They're worth far more for their emotional value, and if I'd lost that..."  
  
Ruiz smiled politely in return. "I'll check if he's still around."  
  
*****  
  
Peter saw Ruiz coming down the street, June Ellington walking a step behind him. "Are you up for this, Neal?"  
  
Neal turned in the direction Peter was pointing. "Yeah, sure."  
  
Peter gave him a hand to get out of the car.  
  
"Ms. Ellington," Ruiz started the introductions. "This is Neal Caffrey, our inside man."  
  
Neal nodded with a quick smile. "Ms. Ellington."  
  
"June, please." Her eyes searched his. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help."  
  
"It was my pleasure."  
  
"If there's anything I can do to repay you..."  
  
Neal he caught a glint in her eye, and knew she was a woman after his own heart. He opened his mouth to answer, but shut it quickly when he noticed Peter's jaw set in that way he had, when he was expecting the worst. "It's all part of the job, ma'am." He'd have to speak to her some other time, when there wasn't a Fed in the area.  
  
Once June left, Peter eyed Neal. "You've done good."  
  
Neal just shook his head, putting the icepack back to his face.  
  
"June Ellington... without your help, she  _would_  have gotten hurt. Many more people would have gotten hurt. Neal, you did the right thing."  
  
Neal didn't feel like he did the right thing.  
  
*****  
  
Peter was not in a happy mood as he made his way on the elevator up to Ruiz's office.  
  
"Burke, hey." Ruiz greeted him with a smile. "Good work yesterday."  
  
Peter wasted no time on pleasantries. "I just had a talk with Spartak, from the DA's office. She said you told her you intended to hold Kate Moreau, and that she should be charged with aggravated burglary and assault."  
  
Kate was recuperating in the hospital, but once her condition improved, she was to be transferred to the Federal Metropolitan Detention Center, where she would be held until her trial.  
  
"That's right."  
  
"You have Keller down for murder." The man had, surprisingly, confessed. Peter wasn't sure whether Keller wasn't just trying to protect Kate. "You don't need Moreau."  
  
Ruiz leaned back in his chair. "Moreau was about to kill you."  
  
"I could have talked her out of it."  
  
Ruiz snorted. "You're welcome, Burke."  
  
"We promised Caffrey she won't be charged."  
  
Ruiz didn't even bother answering that.  
  
"Caffrey came to  _me_. He  _trusted_  me. When a guy like that comes to the FBI, you help him, you don't throw it back in his face."  
  
"Oh, come on. Caffrey only helped us out because he thought he could wave his magic wand and make all his girlfriend's crimes go away."  
  
Peter scoffed, but Ruiz wasn't finished. "For guys like Caffrey, it's not about justice. It's about getting what he wants. He would have never helped us if he wouldn't have gotten something out of it."  
  
As if any informant did so for altruistic reasons. "Having a guy like Caffrey feed us intel - that is an asset you don't throw away lightly. It's worth more than Moreau in jail, no matter what she did."  
  
Ruiz looked at Peter intently. "Look, Keller and Moreau - they belong in jail. And Caffrey, with all the intel he can provide us, belongs in there with them. I'm not going to give him a free pass, no matter what he's willing to give me."  
  
"So you just gave up one of the greatest assets we could have had."  
  
Ruiz smiled. "No. I'm not that stupid, Burke."  
  
"What do you mean? He's not going to help you now."  
  
"Oh, I think he will. He wouldn't want his friends knowing that he's been squealing on them, would he?"  
  
"You wouldn't dare." Peter had blackmailed informants before - you used whatever cards you had - but he'd never blackmailed them for being informants. News traveled fast in the murky underground world. A law-enforcement agent who got a name for turning over his sources would very quickly find himself being stonewalled.  
  
"See, that's why you haven't caught him yet. You don't have what it takes."  
  
So that's what it was all about. And with that came the sudden realization. "You never intended to keep Caffrey's deal, did you?" If it wasn't Kate pulling a gun, it would have been something else.  
  
Ruiz got up from his desk. "I'm a busy man, Burke. You come here to lecture me on how I close my cases?"  
  
"We made a deal, Ruiz."  
  
"No,  _you_  made a deal. And now you want me to free the woman who put a gun to your head. Whose side are you on, anyway?" Ruiz pushed past Peter on his way out of the office, leaving a seething Peter behind.  
  
*****  
  
Later that day, Peter stopped by Neal's hotel room. Neal was still residing in the Gansevoort, and now Ruiz's men were keeping watch on him.  
  
Neal opened the door. The lights were dimmed down low. His injuries from yesterday were quickly fading. "Yeah?"  
  
Peter hadn't expected a warm welcome. He's assumed Neal had already heard the news. "Neal-"  
  
"Forgot to mention something in your debriefing?"  
  
"You have every right to be upset, Neal. Just... just hear me out, okay?"  
  
Neal held Peter's gaze for a long, silent moment. Then he moved back to allow Peter to enter.  
  
Peter took a few steps into the room. "Look, Neal, I know how you feel-"  
  
"No! You don't!" Neal turned at Peter. He then took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. His blue eyes locked on Peter's. "I did exactly what I promised. You've got Keller."  
  
"I know you did."  
  
"So why is Kate under arrest?"  
  
"She pulled a gun on a Federal agent, Neal. She-"  
  
Neal just shook his head. That was the excuse the FBI were using to renege on their deal. "Did you even intend to go through with my deal, or was it all for show?"  
  
"I swear, Neal, I-"  
  
But Neal didn't want to listen. "Was this payback for you almost getting fired?"  
  
"What?" Peter frowned. "Where did you get that from?"  
  
"People talk."  
  
Peter would have loved to find out which people talked, but this wasn't the reason he was here. "Okay, look, Neal, what do you want me to say, that the Bureau screwed you? They did. Believe me, I didn't see it coming either."  
  
Neal chuckled bitterly. He walked past Peter and over to a side-table, where he picked up a glass of Scotch. He raised the glass in his hand. "To the FBI," he enunciated every letter carefully, "the best con-men in New York City."  
  
"This isn't a done deal, Neal. This-" Peter noted that there was an almost empty bottle of whiskey standing on the table. "How much did you drink, Neal?"  
  
"I'm not drunk." He really wasn't, but he could see from Peter's face that he didn't believe him. Right now he was past caring what the FBI agent thought.  
  
"Right." Next to the bottle was that day's Times. The headlines trumpeted the capture of the Movers' Gang. The sketch of Kate and Keller taking up a significant portion above the fold. The newspaper had made the rounds back at the office. The FBI team that caught them didn't even get a mention, but that didn't dampen the celebration much.  
  
Neal considered the agent. "Why are you here, Peter?"  
  
Peter looked up from the paper. "This isn't over, Neal. I signed that deal and I'm going to make sure it goes through."  
  
"Yeah." Neal sipped from his glass. He doubted Peter could do much. "Well, you don't need to worry about that now."  
  
Peter frowned. "Why not?"  
  
Neal shrugged it off, which did nothing to calm down the sudden churning in Peter's gut. Neal was up to something.  
  
"Neal, don't try fixing this yourself. Let me handle this."  
  
"Peter-"  
  
"Just don't do anything stupid, okay?  
  
"Depends what you call stupid," Neal muttered under his breath. He raised his glass. It still had a good amount of amber liquid in it. Getting this, now  _that_  was stupid. He had stolen it back when he and Kate were still together. A loudmouth at a bar was boasting his grandfather had just found a case of old Scotch. Neal and Kate had played him up, getting him to spill the details. It had sounded like fun, grabbing a couple of bottles of hundred-year old Scotch. They just hadn't taken into account the three mastiffs Gramps kept in the backyard or the gun he kept under his pillow. Neal had barely escaped in one piece. They had gotten drunk that night, toasting their success and foolishness.  
  
And today he'd risked getting the bottle from its hideout, right under the noses of Ruiz's men. So he had quite a résumé of stupid under his belt.  
  
"Do you know how much this costs?" he asked Peter.  
  
"Not really." Peter wasn't sure where this was going.  
  
"Guess."  
  
"Neal-"  
  
"Yeah, you probably wouldn't want to know anyway." Neal gulped it all down, then reached for the bottle for a refill.  
  
Peter reached over for both the glass and the bottle. "I think you've had enough, Buddy."  
  
"Wait, but-"  
  
"Enough." Peter put the alcohol aside. "Now listen. I'm going to figure this out, okay?"  
  
Neal relented. "Yeah, okay."  
  
Well, that was a tiny baby step forward. "Okay. So you're not going to do anything stupid?"  
  
Neal took a deep breath. "No, Peter. I'm not going to do anything stupid."  
  
"Good. Because, remember, both you and Kate could get into real serious trouble."  
  
"Yeah, I got that, Peter."  
  
"Good. Just making sure you do." Peter reached out for Neal's arm, giving it a quick squeeze. "I'll update you."  
  
After closing the door behind the FBI agent, Neal moved back to the morning paper. He traced Kate's face with a finger. Then he flipped the paper open, revealing a few folded pieces of paper - the schematics he'd been studying when Peter had come by.  
  
One thing Peter had gotten right. This wasn't over.


	6. Epilogue

A week later, Peter was woken up early in the morning by the ringtone of his phone.  
  
He reached out for it from under the blankets. "Burke."  
  
It was Jones. "Peter, Kate Moreau just escaped."  
  
"How did she do that?"  
  
"Somebody showed up to transfer her to Metropolitan, loaded her up into an ambulance and disappeared. NYPD put out a BOLO for it, but nothing so far."  
  
Peter had been snatched from his sweet dreams, but even in his half-asleep state, something wasn't making sense. "And they released her, just like that?"  
  
"They thought he was FBI. He was carrying Agent Ruiz's ID and had all the transfer forms signed and-"  
  
"Ruiz?"  
  
"Yeah. I already talked to him. He says he misplaced his badge yesterday and was going to report it this morning."  
  
"Misplaced his badge, huh?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
Peter couldn't help smiling. Ruiz was getting a first taste of what it was like going up against Neal Caffrey.  
  
After a few moments of complete silence, Clinton tried again. "Peter?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm here."  
  
"You want me to chase up Caffrey?"  
  
Peter yawned. "No... it's a Violent Crime case, right?"  
  
"Well, I suppose-"  
  
"Let Ruiz figure it out."  
  
Clinton paused for a second and then chuckled. "Gotcha."  
  
"Oh. Just... maybe ask around, see if you can find out who was driving the ambulance."  
  
"Will do."  
  
Peter hung up just as Elizabeth turned over from her side of the bed. She caught sight of his smile. "Good news?"  
  
Peter threw the phone back on his night table. "In a way." Neal had pulled it off, for now. And Peter knew who  _he_  was rooting for. "Just, in the future, remind me never to try and out con a con."

 

 

[Artwork by Leesa Peerie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2343764) 

 


End file.
